Oh Come All Ye Faithful
by yimmy-kins
Summary: [Kigo] 3rd in my Kigo Christmas series, now officially a Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover. Shego talks about her life, her past, and her Faith.
1. A Little Ride

Notes: Hello again! If you didn't know, this is the 3rd installment of my Kigo Christmas series. Read "The Night Christmas Went Boom" and "The After Christmas Blues" before moving onto this or you'll be lost. Oh, and I'm trying a new style with this story. Might seem a little confusing at first but I need to know how it works (mainly because I've written much of the story like this already!). Please give me some feedback on the stylistic change. All comments and critiques welcome!

**This story takes place immediately after "The After Christmas Blues" when Shego tells Kim and Ron to get into her car. Just to let you know, this is a _Kim Possible/__Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ crossover.**

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* * *

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**_Oh Come All Ye Faithful_**

by Yimmy

Chapter 1: _A Little Ride

* * *

_

I guess the story beings when I was about Kimmie's age. Believe it or not, I was a pretty popular girl in school. No, not like THAT Stoppable, so stop staring at me. Didn't do cheerleading but I did do all the sports, not to mention the yearbook. I mean, people tended not to pick on the school's All-American athlete, you know? And the goth thing, oh my God, the goth thing saved my self-image. Black's always been in but green? I took it to another level with the leather but I never overdid it, never cheapened it. Made me feel naturally fashionable too because I was so pale all the time. You should've seen some of the girls try to get this complexion.

_Ha. A goth athlete. Isn't that an oxymoron?_

Shut up, Stoppable. Anyway, the best place to start would be at the beginning of my junior year.

**Wait, Shego, where were you?**

Go City High. That's not where much of this story happened, but it's where the ball started rolling. Things always start simple, Kimmie, then they get complicated. Anyway, I'd been doing the superhero thing for a year or so, getting full of myself and acting all like a superstar.

Imagine that. Me, full of myself.

Of course, since I'd hit the very crest of my teenaged rebellion, my parents panicked. Think they finally blew that last gasket when I told them I was dating a girl. You've got to realize, I have four brothers. It's like living in a testosterone soaked Twilight Zone. Honest, I've got nothing against the guys but I didn't want to have anything to do with that macho stuff. Hego gave me enough of that junk at home, I didn't need any more of it from the person I dated.

_Did your parents kick you out of the house for being a... a..._

**A lesbian?**

Well, sort of. You see, it wasn't so much the "dating-a-girl" thing as it was a culmination of stuff like the "trying-weed-for-the-first-time" thing and the "take-a-joyride-with-the-friends-in-the-Go-Jet" thing, not to mention the "flattening-the-cameraman-who-kept-following-me" thing. Looking back, yeah, I'll say it: I was a little spoiled brat who made all the wrong decisions. One day, Mom and Dad sat me down to have one of those serious talks about me, my life, my powers, and my responsibilities. They said if I was going to keep causing trouble, then I wasn't going to be causing it under their roof.

_So you listened to them?_

**So you broke up with that girl?**

Nope. I ran away from home.

**Figures.**

Hey Princess, what would YOU have done?

**Stopped doing what I was doing to get them mad?**

The thought did occur to me, but by that time, I'd packed up a few changes of clothes, cleaned out Team Go's ATM account, and bought the first bus ticket out of town.

_Umm, you didn't think too fast, did you?_

**Ron! That was mean!**

_Ouch! Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just stop throwing coins at me!_

Next time you feel like talking, remember that I've got a lot more loose change up here.

**Shego! Don't threaten him!**

Where was I again? Oh yeah, I'd just bought the first bus ticket out of town.

_Why the bus?_

Because the airport would've been obvious, buffoon. With a bus ticket, you don't even have to give them a name. I wanted to disappear.

**Where did you go?**

Around. Saw some of the Midwest, which by the way, was the biggest mistake in my life. There's nothing there except fields and badgers. Always wanted to visit Boston, so I made it one of my stops. Got caught up in some weird stuff too.

* * *

Shego ambled down the street, her senses soaking in the centuries old buildings and historical monuments. Go City was so new and lifeless, but Boston, Boston was old, even ancient by American standards. Echoes of things great and small rung from beautiful cathedral to standard office buildings. Small stores, their reputations many times larger than their square footage, dotted the streets like sirens luring customers in. 

This place had history, not that sterile detachedness her own hometown sported. Didn't want to further stereotypes or anything, but the goth scene must've rocked here. It was just so musky and... and... OLD. People in black and eyeliner seemed to fit in as opposed to Go City where... well... you know.

It was a gothic smorgasbord full of meaning and history and Shego loved it. Loved walking through it, loved window shopping, loved people-watching, and above all, loved the freedom. She was young, filled to the brim with cash, and ready to experience life at its absolute finest.

Which was what brought her to the cramped and boisterous bar of a well known pub. She might've been sixteen, but a flirtatious wink here, an offended look here, and poof appeared a tall mug of foamy amber beer. Shego smiled and wetted her lips, the prospect of her first taste of alcohol filling her with giddy excitement. She swung the glass like they did in the movies, a huge mouthful hitting her tongue and pouring down her throat at the same time.

Yeah, at the same time she almost upchucked the foul, bitter drink.

Between her gags and coughs, an amused laugh rose above the loud music. "Easy t'ere, lassy! Dun want ta spoil yer cover now."

Her eyes drifted up above the bar. Well, they tried at least. First, they had to run up a pair of silky smooth legs that seemed to go on forever and ever. The copper toned skirt hid what promised to be supple thighs, shortening the trip. The matching silk blouse threatened to burst at the bust as buttons strained against fabric. Then and only then did Shego's eyes finally meet two soulful, toffee colored orbs framed by long, golden strands of hair.

Razor thin lips curled up in a grin. "Like whatcha see?"

Never one to shy away from a pretty face, Shego straightened her back and tried to pick up what was left of her dignity. "I like your eyes."

"Do ye now?"

"Yeah, I can see my reflection in them."

"Ha!" belted the woman, who at this point seemed more and more tanked by the second. "What's yer name?"

She was in a city she didn't know, hanging out in a place she shouldn't have been in, talking to a woman who she'd never met before. Real name? Yeah, outta the question. Superheroine name? No, too much baggage, too much to explain. "I'm Faith," she answered.

"Just Faith?"

"Just Faith. You?"

"Aines Strachan. Nice meeting ya, Just Faith."

* * *

**Shego, I am not impressed.**

What's wrong, Kimmie?

**In about ten minutes, you've told me that you've smoked marijuana, drank while you were underage, dated a girl out of rebellion, and flirted with a complete stranger. Not reaffirming my confidence in the relationship here.**

It sounds bad because it was bad. I'm telling you because I want you to know the person I was from the person I am. I learned a long time ago that being mysterious and tight lipped has its own consequences, most of them bad. I want you to know who I am and that includes my past. I'm not proud of it, but it's my life and you need to see where I'm coming from.

_Now why am I here? Ouch!_

You're her friend, Stoppable. For some ungodly reason, Kimmie trusts you, listens to you, and asks you for your opinions. One of these days, she's going to tell you everything I say to her right now and you're going to be like "See? See KP? I told you she was bad!" Yeah, we're heading that conversation off at the pass. You listen now and you'll know that when it comes to Kimmie, I lay all my cards on the table for her to see. I've lost too much by lying and I won't lose any more. No games, no lies.

_Why do I get the feeling that I've been circumscriptly dissed?_

**About this Aines lady...**

No, we didn't have sex.

**I didn't-**

You had that look on your face. You were curious. Stoppable, back me up on this one.

_Ummm, I abstain._

No answer is still an answer. If you were really sure, you would've contradicted me.

_I think I liked you better when you threw fire at me._

That can be arranged.

**Shego! Watch where you're driving!**

Yikes. Sorry, Princess. So, back to the story. After almost throwing up my dinner, I decided to stay away from the beer that night. Aines, who was Irish by the way, thought it'd be neat challenge to coax me into getting drunk. "Pop yer liquor cherry" she called it. Eh, didn't quite happen that way...

* * *

Tonight, Shego learned the difference between tanked and wasted: it was a gradient beginning at "buzzed" and ending with "smashed." "Wasted" was just one step below "smashed" which meant Aines wasn't driving home. Incidentally, "wasted" also meant she wasn't able to walk, talk, see, hear, or function at a higher level for at least three hours. 

The difference between "smashed" and "wasted?" Control of bodily functions.

Shego stumbled out of the pub with the woman draped on her back. The bartender offered to call a cab, but unfortunately, no one had any idea where Aines lived. Aines herself? See the definition of "wasted" enclosed above.

Where had the night gone wrong? She went into a bar to get a drink but ended being hounded by this lady. What had been an intriguing body turned into a staunch test of wills, Shego not wanting to accept Aines' offers of booze and Aines ordering more and more drink varieties to entice Shego. Guess where most of the alcohol went?

"Bleeeeeah."

Wow. Her breath could kill Avarius.

"Aines, where do you live?"

"Ehva middu verra nittuk."

Blink, blink. "We're checking you into a motel."

Down the street they stumbled. Honestly, Shego could've picked up the waif-like Aines without breaking a sweat but that would've looked weird. Though Team Go wasn't exactly an internationally renowned superhero outfit, they did register on the national scale once in a while. A black haired girl hauling around a bigger person like a rag doll would raise someone's curiosity, and should that curiosity find its way back home...

Well, Shego wasn't feeling like going home just yet.

She craned her head around, searching for a lodgings sign. Bars, bars, and bars ran up and down the street, but motels? Hotels? Nothing. You'd think they'd put a terrible dive in this seedy neighborhood so that drunkards could sleep off their alcohol. Probably would make a pretty penny too.

"Not like I know Boston either," Shego mumbled to herself.

Fed up, she deposited her limp cargo on the bench of a bus stop. Her little sinister voice--which she found growing in volume and strength in recent months--said things like "The lady deserves it" and "Why should I help HER?" Indeed, no reason to help a total stranger who'd been nothing but a handful this entire night. If someone had the wherewithal to get drunk, then they had the gall to realize its consequences, like getting ditched on a bus stop bench in the middle of the night.

Shego turned her heel and strolled down the block.

But it still didn't seem right. What if she got attacked or kidnapped or raped or killed? Heroes didn't leave needy people alone.

"Not a hero anymore. I'm not a hero anymore."

Say it as much as she wanted, her conscience's pinpricks and her parents' lectures slowed her pace. People were stupid, people were selfish, but Shego considered herself better than "people." If she left Aines alone, if she walked away now, she'd be like every other person on this oh-so-detestable planet. She'd be nothing special, no one worth mentioning.

She'd be everything her parents taught her not to be.

Biting her lower lip, Shego turned back around to reclaim her burden but noticed three biker guys hovering around the bench. From far away, they looked like the typical sort of troublemakers: big, well-muscled, and dumb.

"Hey! Get away from her, you losers!"

They all looked up and froze Shego. Gleaming red eyes and horribly distended faces focused on her. Huge fangs extend out of twisted mouths while their foreheads scrunched up, full of bony looking ridges.

"Lookit, another little girl wants ta play."

"Let's gither Mikey let's gither too we's gettin' hungry Mikey."

The burliest biker cracked his neck. "This one's nice n' young, boys. Bet her blood would go down real nice."

* * *

_Ok, wait, wait, timeout. Did that guy say blood?_

Interrupt me again and I'm throwing this dollar coin at you.

_But you're talking about vampires. Vampires don't exist!_

**I'm going with Ron on this one. Are you sure you weren't drunk?**

_Maybe it was the marijuana._

Don't make me dump you out of the car, Stoppable: I'm no pothead. I'm telling you, they're real. In a world where I've got superpowers from a meteorite and Monkey Fist can be an actual monkey, why's it such a stretch to say vampires exist?

**Because we've never seen any of them.**

Kimmie, just because you haven't seen them doesn't mean they're not there. Besides, you and Stoppable should be the last ones talking.

_Erm, why's that?_

Except for those missions, when was the last time either of you went out in the dead of the night?

_Uhhhh... _

**Well...**

Yeah, thought so. As I was saying...

* * *

When the fist came at her face, her body reacted. It stepped out of the way, leaving her mind which hadn't quite caught up yet to puzzle over what these things were. They couldn't have been human because, well, look at them. All the campy movies she'd ever seen made her brain scream "Vampires!" but... but... 

Cool. Maybe vampires did exist. Maybe they only hung out in antiquated cities like Boston. Maybe they knew they wouldn't last a minute in Go City because there was nothing goth about the place.

Vampires. Like wow.

Shego ducked under a huge boot and let the blow sail into the one who tried to sneak up on her. A wet crunch and groans of "Awww Mikey ya bewowk ma nose!" almost made her laugh. Hmph, vampires, tough, at least a smidge tougher than the goons Avarius launched after Team Go. The one called Mikey tried to grab her but she slipped out of his grasp, stuck her palm out, and-

Wait. No powers. Couldn't use them or her family would come looking for her. There'd be hell to pay for disappearing and this was too much fun. Instead, she rocketed her hand forward, catching the man just under the chin and shattering teeth. Dazed, he stumbled back onto the bench Aines lounged on.

No, didn't mean to do that! She shouted a "Look out!" to her new acquaintance, the shock of the momentary lapse locking her in place. Mikey backed into the older woman and got a funny look on his already funny face. His eyes drifted down to his chest where a wooden tip made itself known.

"Whaddat?"

And poof, he was gone in a dust cloud. His two friends glanced at each other, looked at their supposed easy prey, and ran for the hills.

Aines shambled to her feet, brownish particulates falling off of her as she did. In her hand was a sharp piece of wood. "Ye fight pretty good, Just Faith. Where'd ya learn them moves?"

"Those were vampires."

"Aye, glad ye ain't gapin' at me lika fawn. Usually people just run."

References to novels, fanfiction, anime, movies, cartoons, and television shows pinballed around Shego's mind. Hesistantly, she asked, "Are you a vampire slayer?"

"Slayer?" Aines threw her head back and laughed. "Nay, ain't no Slayer 'ere. But tell ya what, Just Faith, ye might one yerself."

* * *

_Shego, the vampire slayer? OUCH!_

I warned you, Stoppable. OUCH!

**I warned YOU, Shego.**

Sheesh, fine, have it your way. Before I was so rudely interrupted, Aines called herself a Watcher, a person who snoops around the world keeping an eye on things. She belonged to this mysterious "Council" in the England that's been dealing with vampires, demons, and other magical things for ages and for the most part have been doing a pretty good job at it.

**She said you might a vampire slayer?**

Not a vampire slayer, THE Vampire Slayer. There's some crap about once in a generation, one girl is chosen to be the person who kicks the forces of hell back into their caves. She thought I was the Slayer because I fought like one. Didn't have the heart to tell her I wasn't though.

What? No comment, Stoppable?

_That's because I see that CD case in your hand._

Smart man.

**Shego...**

Right, the Slayer. Guess what? The Slayer gets nice perks because, let's face it, a random girl pulled out of a hat isn't going to last very long against vampires. She's stronger, faster, and tougher than... than... Let's just say she's a notch below the Killer Bebe.

_Whoa._

**You said there's only one Slayer every generation.**

Right, one girl to face all the world's problems. Aines said a lot Slayers died before their eighteenth birthday, and when that happened, another girl would get the shit job and so on.

**Just one person? Shego, your story is getting way too unbelievable. One girl? One girl to stop everything? Not even I work alone! **

Which was why the Council was formed. They were the Slayer's teachers, information source, backup, and family.

_This Council is like our GJ then?_

Funny you should mention that...

* * *

Turned out Aines' apartment wasn't too far from the bar. Nestled atop a pretzel store, her home looked like something straight out of a rent control nightmare. The landlord painted the door a hideous purple brown and left the wooden stairs leading up to the dwelling in perilous condition. Police sirens blazed by too often, and along with them, gunshots from various shootouts. Surrounded by the groans and squeaks of a building on its final leg, Shego carefully followed her still inebriated "friend" to make sure she didn't fall and kill herself. 

"Lady, you're nuts."

"I resent that. Ya saw 'em vampires then why can't ya accept yer fate as the Slayer?"

"I'm talking about your apartment. It's a-"

"Nae, wait'll ya see inside," she winked as she fumbled about with her keys. "If ya think this'a piece o' werk, ye ain't seen nothin' yet!"

Doy. Actually, double doy. No, no, this called for a triple doy. First, she found out beer tasted horrid. Second, vampires were real and looking for blood. Third, this crazy lady was crazy enough to believe she was part of some super secret, evil fighting organization that had control of this mystical being called the Slayer.

Aines jabbed the correct key into the lock and gave a big grin like a proud mother. Open went the door. Shego expected empty pizza cartons, scavenging rodents, empty whiskey bottles, and unidentifiable stains.

What she got was an immaculate sanctuary fit for the pickiest of Go City aristocracy. It looked like a set out of "Masterpiece Theatre," resplendent with dusty tomes and dim lighting. Red (of course) dominated the larger-than-it-seemed-from-the-outside apartment and played a good backdrop for Aines' various personal, modern touches like the plasma television, a "dancing, singing shamrock in a pot," and an honest to goodness record player.

There was only one thing Shego could say. "Nice place."

"Aye, the Council pays m'well." Shrugging off her coat, the blonde flung it onto the plush suede sofa. "Care fer a drink? Me bar has better liquor thannae watered down shite they served back there."

"Erm, no thanks."

Beautiful paintings assaulted Shego's vision. Antique lamps and Persian rugs leapt into view like hungry lions. A solid mahogany dining table--piled to the brim with books, scrolls, and archaic weapons--kept silent vigil, the understated centerpiece of the entire apartment. The Council paid her well? This wasn't how well off people lived; this was how rich people lived.

And the best part? It was sooooo goth!

Aines smiled at her gushing guest, her newly found Slayer who fell into her lap. No normal, reed thin girl could go toe to toe with three vampires and live. Actually, a new Slayer would've had a hard time, but this girl... this girl was a piece of work. She had a certain naivety, the way her eyes glowed whenever something she liked or was impressed by came into her sights. She was skilled, her fighting moves polished in the way only experience could impart. She was fearless, unintimidated by undead and bar bouncers alike.

She was a raw, uncut diamond. Once word got out, the boys back in England would be soiling themselves in gleeful surprise.

Keeping her poker face, Aines staggered to the kitchen in search of bread to quell her flipping stomach. "So, where ye from, Just Faith?"

The question snapped Shego out of her star struck gaze. She might've been born and raised in Go City, but Faith? "Nowhere," answered Shego, "And it's Faith, not Just Faith."

"Nowhere sounds lika borin' place. If ya ain't gonna tell meh, least call yer parents, let 'em know where ye at."

Parents? No way, not happening. Mom and Dad were still fuming over the Go Jet incident and this--the running away, stealing, abandonment of "duty," and lying--would not help her cause any. Thus, she reached into her knowledge of television drama and spun her next words.

"Parents? I don't know my dad and my mom treats me like a punching bag. Home's the last place I'm going."

* * *

**Oh my God, that's just wrong!**

If I'm going to finish my story, you've got to stop interrupting.

**That's just... just... WRONG.**

Do you hear me disagreeing?

**No, but still, why?**

Kimmie, I was sixteen, full of myself, and without anyone looking over my shoulder. I was running from my life because I was tired of it. This was a new beginning staring me in the face.

Like any dumb teenager, I took the first opportunity available.

* * *

"Ye kinnae tense." 

"And you're awfully nice for a stranger."

"Ye think I'm Freddy Kruger?"

"No, you're awfully nice for a stranger."

Aines bobbed her head, a show of concession and (perhaps) her state of drunkenness. "Ye dun believe a flippin' word I've said."

"Everyone in the world is a liar. The only person I trust is myself."

"I 'member when I was like ye, all carryin' on like I was part o' the Sex Pistols, givin' everyone the finger and not givin' a lick o' shite. Fun times."

Tired of the conversation, Shego edged herself to the door. "I'd like to stay, but well, you know..."

"Ye got anywhere to sleep?"

With her wallet bursting with cash? "I'll manage."

"Look, Slayer or not, Boston ain't safe fer a girl by her lonesome."

"It's ok. Not the first time I've had to fend for myself." Well, actually it was, but Aines didn't have to know that. Turning around, Shego put her hand on the doorknob and-

"You've gotta gift, Faith. There be plenty o' buggers who wouldn't mind exploitin' the Slayer or puttin' her head onna pike. The Council 'ere ta help ye, guide ye, protect ye. Know it sounds lika crock, but there be worse fates than hearin' meh out 'bout the things goin' bump in the night."

This lady had Shego all wrong: she wasn't "The Slayer." She wasn't bound by some mythical duty to beat back vampires. She wasn't keen on trading in one superhero outfit for another. She was having fun, doing things her way, living for tomorrow and not the world's expectations.

But the lure of the fight called to her. It was one of the few things she truly enjoyed as a superheroine, jumping, dodging, hitting, and defeating anything that stood in her way. She loved the rush of adrenaline, the different challenges each battle presented, the impossible odds, and the inevitable rush of victory. All of that sung to her like a sweet drug and she couldn't say no.

At least, she couldn't say no without exploring the opportunity first.

"How do I know you're legit?"

Aines smiled. "We've been 'round for a long time, Faith. Governments all o'er the world know 'bout us, work wit us. Ye ever heard o' Global Justice?"

Global Justice? Shego's ears perked up at its very mention. Not so long ago, the semi-clandestine, United Nations sanctioned outfit hired Team Go as muscle for a few missions. Those GJ guys were like boy scouts, people Hego related to a little bit too well. That aside, they seemed competent enough, never screwing up, never saying too much, never getting in the way. They were super hush-hush too, and... and...

"Ye look confused n' I canne blame ya. What 'bout the CIA or MI-6? Seen those guys in yer movies?"

"You're a bunch of cops?"

"Only t'were that simple. We're like the original protectors o' mankind n' we ain't afraid 'o branchin' out when we need ta."

GJ comment aside, "I still don't know how you're legit."

"Bollocks, woman! If I wasn't 'legit' I wouldn't have let ye in me home! T'ink for a second n' realize ye ain't the only one riskin' somethin' 'ere."

* * *

Aines was smart. She didn't know why, but she knew she had my interest. She just built on that, first showing me all the demons and whatnots hanging around in the night then teaching me how to fight them. 

_But you aren't the Slayer._

True, but I doesn't mean I can't fight like one.

_Didn't you say you were trying to get away from the saving the world stuff?_

It has nothing to do with the world, Stoppable.

_Soooo... I don't get it._

**She wanted to know how good she was.**

Bingo, Princess, and in one shot too. Frankly, I was looking for some opponents who wouldn't get knocked out after a punch. I saw these things as a challenge. I mean, what kind of statement would it make if I could take down a centuries old werewolf without using my powers? I'd be better than the Slayer, I'd be better than anyone else on this planet!

I wouldn't need my stupid brothers watching my back.

I wouldn't need to go home anymore.

I could be... me. If I was that good, freedom could be mine.

**What did she teach you?**

Thought you'd never ask: she taught me how the really fight. None of this henchmen, blindly charge at you stuff--she taught me how dirty fighting could be, how "evil beings" never fought fair. She taught me about guns and knives and swords and how to not get killed by them. She taught me how to read my opponents' weaknesses and use that against them, not just overwhelm them with my strengths. She was a slave driver too, training me in the day then letting me loose on vampires at night.

_Did a vampire ever... you know..._

Bite me? Nope, but from what I hear, it's like having a rockin' orgasm that stops your heart.

**Shego!**

_Gah, too much information!_

Oh please, are you two virgin maidens or something?

_Yet again I felt a diss._

You'll be feeling more in a second if you don't stop kicking the back of my seat.

_Oops, sorry.

* * *

_

Days like this, Shego wondered why she stayed in Boston. Well, Boston itself wasn't so bad with the old world feel and the get-you-lost nightlife, but Aines was something else. She dove into this "Slayer training" guise like it was her job.

On second thought, it was her job.

So she took it seriously. Way too seriously. Like right now for instance. Instead of seeing the country and getting into all kinds of mischief, Shego found her sweat drenched self bobbing and weaving, dodging paintballs fired from her "Watcher."

"Put yer stinkin' back inta it! I dun wannae see no paint on ya!"

Oh, it was fun at first. Aines knew a bunch of wicked moves and made a whole lot of points on how to wreck people good, but she insisted on perfection. Learning and understanding weren't good enough for her--every motion had to be poetic.

"The Slayer ain't no patsy!"

That was her rationale for everything: the Slayer ain't no patsy. Every day could be the Slayer's last so everything she did had to be perfect. No time for slip ups or failures because those equated to death. Fighting wasn't suppose to be fun. Slaying wasn't suppose to be a rush. Training was suppose to be a privilege. The battle for good was suppose to be a sacred duty.

But for Shego, fighting WAS fun. Slaying was even better, like the cherry on the sundae. Duty? Training? Having to listen to everything about demons and epic battles and old prophecies? Having to do these menial exercises instead of going out and sticking it to a vampire? Not so much.

Which was why when her body slowed down from exhaustion and that ball of red paint clipped her side, Shego wondered why she tolerated this abuse.

"Faith! Focus!"

For the fight. For the chance to get better, even to become the best. That would show Hego, the one who always hogged all the glory and attention. That would show Mom and Dad who always told her to be careful. Careful? Who needed to be careful when nothing could stop her? Who would dare take her glory ever again?

No one.

Jaws clenched and eyes narrowed, Shego let out a frustrated cry and rushed her teacher. Duck to the left, spin back to the right, and like a whip, her leg flashed from out of nowhere, smacking the paintball gun into the wall and shattering it into pieces. Without hesitation, Shego slipped behind Aines and put the older woman in a chokehold.

Breathlessly, the black haired girl asked, "Why don't we take a break?"

Another Watcher might have acquiesced, terrified at her Slayer's temper. Another teacher might have chided her student who let her emotions take over her actions. Aines? The blonde latched onto Shego's forearm, bucked her hips to create some space, and flipped the girl onto the training room's unforgiving floor with a resounding boom.

The ceiling fuzzed into a blurry brown, its support beams suddenly doubling in number. As her ears rang and her head swam, Shego let out a soft, tortured moan. Like a solar eclipse, Aines' face crested into view and blocked out everything else.

"Wha did I tell ya? Yuir body's a tool n' ya gotta use it right. It ain't 'bout how quick ye move or how strong ye are, it's how ye use what ya have." A grunt and a pull followed, ending with a wobbling Shego now on her feet. "Bugger the whinin', Slayer! I want ye ta put that 'old on meh again. 'bout the only thing I have over ye is me height, me leverage. Even Slayers gotta listen ta all that physics junk so I used that ta drop ya, just stepped back, put me feet 'tween yours, and POW!" She added a smirk and a mock jab for effect. "Now, get meh 'gain n' try not ta take a spill."

* * *

Looking back on it, those four months were good ti- 

**Four months!**

Princess, you're interrupting. Again.

**But four months?**

What can I say? The masochist in me liked the pain.

_A maso-wha? Whoa! You almost hit me with that!_

Think of it as a thank you for saving my life.

_How come when KP interrupts you don't throw things at her?_

Because I'm not crazy in love with you, Stoppable. Believe it or not, things like that make a difference.

_How can you not be crazy in love with the Ronster?_

Doy.

* * *

- To be continued... 


	2. Something in my Eye

Notes: This chapter is most probably why this fic is rated M. Be forewarned. Feedback is appreciated!

* * *

_**Oh Come All Ye Faithful**_

by Yimmy

Chapter 2: _Something in my Eye

* * *

_

Three AM in the morning, the dead of winter--steam from the sewer grates flooded the streets. Broken lights and a moonless sky blanketed the city in deathly darkness. Cars didn't drive through this area, this run down place only the insane or criminal dared venture. Behind spray-paint layered doors and boarded up windows, transients, drug users, and supernatural rabble-rousers mingled like a vile cocktail.

On one of these streets stumbled Shego, her clothes ruffled, her hair a mess, and a bottle of cheap, half-drunk liquor in her hand. Dirty walls and flyer lined lampposts kept her balance as she zigzagged around the sidewalk.

As if she wasn't making enough noise, she let out an impressive belch and followed it up with a mangled rendition of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall."

Two men poked their heads out of an alley. They noticed her leather jacket and booze, things both of them could put to good use. And what if they got a little pussy on the side too? That was a perk, a big perk. With predatory grins and anticipatory gleams in their eyes, they shuffled out of their hiding place...

... only to spy a mean-looking gang saunter out of an "abandoned" building. Led by a mohawk wearing lady, this cadre of pale-skinned, punk themed bandits numbered eight strong. Something was off about them, something like the ridged foreheads or huge fangs or ferocious snarls. The two men had seen people like this before and knew better than to mess with their prey.

"-ake one down, passzit 'round, eighty seven of bottles o' beer onna wa-"

Besides, death wasn't the worst thing that could happen to a man.

"-six bottles o' beer onna wall, eeeeeighty-six bottles-"

Like a murder of crows, the gang surrounded Shego. The burly ones with spiked collars cracked their knuckles; the lanky ones pulled out knives and chains. The leader? She stepped in front of Shego to close off all escape routes.

She made no attempt to hide her vamped out face. "Look what we have here: a pound of jailbait. Guess it's gonna be a good night after all, huh boys?"

"Hey!" Unsteadily, Shego thrust her finger out, lost her equilibrium, and staggered around for a short, comical while. "I distinctly remember there being more sidewalk to walk on! Where'd it go?"

"Up your ass," one of the gang members snickered, "And that's where my dick's going in, you cun-"

The sound of a bottle exploding jostled everyone within an earshot. It happened so quick not even the gang bangers knew what happened. Before they could even gather their wits, three of their number burst into ashes while the formerly easy kill scooped up one of the chains on the ground.

Undaunted by her flunkies' demises, the leader rallied her remaining forces and dove at the whelp of a girl. Instead of tackling a body, she got nothing but air. Where did the girl disappear to? What was she doing here taking on all these vampires?

Two more puffs entered her ears, causing her to jerk her head around. Only two more of her gang remained and even they looked to be in a bad way. One guy--wielding a knife--took a stab at the girl. Fluidly, the fragile looking thing stepped into the thrust, peeled to side at the last second, grabbed a fistful of wrist, and snapped it upward with incredible force. The result? A horribly bent arm and a knife in an eye socket.

While their friend screamed, the two survivors glanced at each other. In about two heartbeats, the girl had taken out six of them. The odds of them joining the others? High. Choosing not to tempt fate, they turned around and sprinted away as fast as their undead legs could take them.

Swoosh. Swoosh.

Two whispers flew through the air. The woman felt cold steel imbed itself in the back of her knee and the ashes of her last ally prickle her eyes just as she fell face first to the dirty ground. She rolled herself over in time to see the girl, who from this angle looked taller than Death, calmly (and very soberly) approach her.

"W... wait!"

Shego withdrew a stake from her pocket.

"Whoa, whoa, don't need to get mean! I was just joking when I called you jailbait!"

Closer she got to the backpedaling vampiress, who, for all her backpedaling, just couldn't do it fast enough.

"Look, don't kill me. I... I... can make you powerful!"

Shego stopped and gave her a questioning glare. "Right. I'm just trembling at the sight of your pathetic awesomeness."

"No! My boss, Kakistos, he owns this town! He could make you rich!"

"Lady, only the Red Sox own this town." With a unnecessary kick to the jaw and a necessary stab to the heart, the mohawk wearing lady disintegrated, the signs of her passing a bloody knife and a pile of ash.

"Hmph," scoffed Shego, "Kakistos. What kind of name is Kakistos?"

* * *

Kakistos. Sheesh. That pig still gives me the creeps.

**Hate to interrupt again, but where are we going?**

That would be a surprise.

_We're not in Middleton anymore._

Thanks for the update. I'll check back with you when I need to know something completely and utterly useless.

**Stop being mean to Ron.**

_Yeah, stop being mean to me!_

But Princess, he's so easy. It's like shooting dead fish in a small barrel with a grenade launcher.

_You know, I'm starting to sense a trend here...

* * *

_

"Kakistos? Ye sure? No shitting meh?"

Shego rolled her eyes and bit into her pizza. God, fighting always got her so hungry, but tonight, after going through all those vampires, she needed something more. Food was nice but not the cure to another hunger rising in her.

Blame it on the adrenaline, the thrill of victory. Blame it on puberty and the resulting sexual curiosity. Blame it on the fact that she'd left her girlfriend--the only person she'd ever been intimate with--back in Go City. Blame it on four months of intense training.

Blame it on whatever but Shego was horny. Hungry and horny, what a combo. Imagine ordering something for THAT at a drive-thru.

Aines smacked the dining table with her hand. "Faith! Will ya listen for once in yer life?"

"Yeah, yeah, Kakistos, khakis n' toast, whatever. We got anymore Mountain Dew in the fridge?"

"Kakistos ain't nothin' ta laugh at. He's old as dirt n' stronger thannae mountain. Vampires dun earn the name 'worst of the worst' by sittin' on their laurels."

Was that a challenge? "Sounds like he's never met a Slayer."

"Oh, he's met Slayers all right, met 'em n' ate 'em. The Council's got stories 'bout how he turned our own 'gainst us."

Getting up from her chair, Shego sauntered to the kitchen in search of a drink. "You think I can't handle him?"

"I dun think. I know ye can't."

"Then why the hell did you train me!" Her voice carried throughout the apartment, ringing with an angry clarity. "What have you been doing with me all this time? Isn't fighting guys like this what I've been destined to do?" The refrigerator opened and shut roughly. "I will fight him and I will win, one way or another. I didn't stay here to be second best to some old fart!"

"Ain't no shame in bidin' yer time."

Shego reappeared, a can of soda in hand and a scowl on her face. "If you think I'm not good enough, then why don't you call your backup? I'm sure the CIA will love using that guy as target practice."

"We need proof."

"What?"

"We. Need. Proof. The Council dun like us pullin' in our allies 'less it's needed."

"This is bullshit," groaned Shego, "First you tell me I can't handle this guy, and now you're telling me I'm not going to get any help unless I get his driver's license, thumbprint, and birth certificate. You know, if this is how you guys work, I'm surprised the world isn't overrun by demons and vampires yet."

"We kinnae go jumpin' willy nilly at every rumor!"

"'We kinnae do this, we kinnae do that,'" Shego mocked, preening and prancing about like an immature version of her Watcher, "Why do you even need a Slayer if all you're going do is send me after just-live-again vamps?"

As Aines worked herself up for a scathing reply, a deafening boom shattered the window next to her front door. Snarls and other voices came rushing into the apartment followed closely by flaming bottles and bullets. The television exploded and valuable tomes caught fire. From outside, streams of gasoline fed the starting embers, intensifying them into tall infernos. Another boom and the door knob splintered into scads of shrapnel and wood.

Both Watcher and "Slayer" made a break for the hallway. Four doors greeted them: the restroom, two bedrooms, and the training room. Shego went for the weapons cache in the training room while Aines bolted into the restroom.

Stakes. Needed stakes and crossbows and a sword. Yeah, a big, mean sword and a knife. The black haired teen scooped up the first available crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a pair of stakes, and stopped short of the first sword in reach. It wasn't quite big enough. The next one over? Not nasty enough. And the next one? Just right.

Big and nasty and jagged and long, just the way she liked everything else.

"Aines?" Only now did she realize that her mentor didn't follow her. Was she hit? No, couldn't be, she was fine a few seconds ago.

Another boom, and this time, the apartment's sturdy door fell over. Her heart racing a mile a minute, Shego loaded her crossbow and poked her head out into the hallway.

Her first thought was "Yuck." Slithering through the fire like it was nothing, these weird snake people began invading the modest apartment. They had tails and bodies like snakes, but where they differed were the arms and head, both disgustingly human. They hissed and gnashed their oversized teeth, purple liquid ("Probably venom," Shego noted) dripping to the ground.

Nagas. Aines had a book about these guys, said something about them being mean, quick, and violent.

Had some pretty awesome pictures too but they didn't do the real thing justice.

Shego took aim at the nearest demon and let a bolt go. She didn't even stop to see where it went instead going straight to reloading and firing. She worked mechanically, methodically, but it wasn't enough: the bolts failed to penetrate the tough skin and there were too many of them. Time for the-

Suddenly, the door across from her--the door to the restroom--opened. Shotgun in tow, a grim Aines leveled the impressive firearm at the incoming demons. For just a fraction of a second, every sound ceased. The nagas stopped hissing, the fire grew silent, Shego held her breath, and the commotion from the outside died down.

Then, thunder roared from the gun's barrel.

The hallway was narrow. The nagas were large. The gun was powerful. The slug tore through the first demon's hide and didn't stop, not even when it hit the second, not even when it hit the burning sofa, but only when it met the wall.

Two writhing bodies fell over.

"You keep guns in bathroom!"

"Well, would ye 'ave looked in there?"

"No!"

"Then I rest meh case."

More nagas appeared and again the shotgun mowed them down with frightening efficiency. "Get in meh room," said Aines, "The fire escape's there."

Shego dropped the crossbow and reached for her sword. "How about the front door?"

"Put that away! Fight with yuir head, Faith! Bein' brave ain't no good if ye dead!"

"Why do you even care? I'm suppose to fight, not run!"

"I ain't gonna have yuir blood on me hands for bein' a fool! Stupid child, ye got a whole lifetime ta fight n' only one chance ta die, doncha realize that?"

Sensing her Slayer's indecision, Aines yanked her up by the collar and backed into her bedroom. She closed the door and locked it, not that mere wood could stop a demon but it'd slow them down. Shego begrudgingly opened the window and vaulted out the metal grating.

Second story--she could've jumped this height without breaking a sweat or a leg. Who needed these things anyway?

Halfway out of the apartment, Aines' eyes widened. "Faith, behind ya!"

Shego spun around in time to see a vampire's fist careen into her jaw. She stumbled back, but before she could act, the shotgun blasted a hole in the undead's chest and sent him over the fire escape's hand rails.

More vampires spilled down from the short building's roof.

Nagas tore down the bedroom door.

A combination of those two waited at the bottom of the fire escape.

"Shite."

"And suddenly the front door sounds like a genius idea."

While her enemies gloated, Shego schemed. During her time with Team Go, no death trap held her, no villain captured her, and no henchmen ever overwhelmed her. When there was a will, there was a way and Shego prided herself on never giving up. She was too good to lose, especially to lowlifes like these.

Shink went her sword as she unsheathed it: the vampire coming at her paused in fright. "Hang on."

With a mighty overhead swing, the well-honed blade sliced through one side of the fire escape's rusty, rickety supports. Since said support was bolted into the apartment's exterior to keep it in place, relieving it of its duty turned the small platform into an impromptu swing. Doing her best Tarzan impression, Shego let out a gleeful yell as the swinging fire escape crashed into all kinds of evil things.

As it made its ascent, she shouted, "Jump!"

Always quick on her feet and mind, Aines forced herself to act, tucking and rolling (And gah! Did she just twist something?) as she hit the ground. She heard the sounds of her shotgun clattering on cement (Too far to reach because it skittered into a crowd of enemies) and Shego landing effortlessly, but both were overwhelmed by their attackers' mass confusion and agonized grunts.

"We've got about two seconds to get out of here, Aines. Laying around? Not helping!"

Pushing back the tears, the blonde prayed to God that her hurting ankle was good enough to walk on. However, the barest weight on the joint collapsed her and brought on a new jolt of pain.

Concern taking over annoyance, Shego looked down at her teacher's lower leg and bit back a gasp. A bone jutted out, not breaking flesh but making it known something wasn't right. Redness engulfed the area and rapidly expanded it.

"Leave," ordered the still prone Aines as she palmed a small book from her pocket. She flipped the tightly bound object to her charge. "Take me diary and get ta Sunnydale, California. Ye'll find help there."

Shego's bravado disappeared. She'd never been this close to death before, this close to losing someone who, if she really asked herself, mattered. Many long nights she envisioned herself leaving this fake life behind and moving on to another city, another adventure. That was why she ran away from home, wasn't it? To get away from all the responsibilities and live life as she pleased? She never imagined death happening, death to someone who helped her be free. This was suppose to be harmless fun because good guys didn't die. Good guys won and lived to fight another day.

If anyone was going die, Shego expected herself to be the one. She wasn't one of the good guys, she wasn't fighting for some greater good, she was along for the ride, for the fun. Dying wasn't fun.

"Aines..."

"GO! Ye deaf, Slayer? Ya got a fuckin' destiny n' it ain't 'ere!"

Meanwhile, the two second window for escape came and went. Confusion settled down into bloodlust, and behind the bloodlust echoed a clapping.

"What have we here? A Watcher and maybe, just maybe, the new Slayer?"

The hordes parted to admit an ugly specimen of unlife. Muscle rippled from his arms and excessively long fangs protruded from his mouth. His fingers were fused together and he walked with a slight, natural hunch. Between his words, he took deep breaths and short pauses, as if he had to think over the language before using it. Then, there were his eyes, red with soulless fury and hellish malice. He didn't so much as look at people as he pierced them, mangled them, and dared them to be defiant. His gaze spoke of many lives taken and the pleasure to make someone--anyone--his next feast.

The worst of the worst. The legend himself, Kakistos.

"Kill the Watcher. I want the Slayer."

"No!" shouted Shego, but of course, the vampiric minions didn't listen.

"Run, Faith! Run, ya wankin', soddin' tart!"

Her sword didn't gleam in virtuous glory. She couldn't defend her teacher, her friend, her Watcher. For every enemy Shego struck down, another three took the fallen's place. Ashes and blood lathered the ground yet they still came, unafraid of death. Inevitable blows pushed her away from Aines, Aines who still screamed and pleaded for Shego to run.

Soon, the screams became unintelligible and bloodcurdling. Gleeful chuckles mingled with hungry, serpentine hisses. The shotgun's distinctive thunder crack shook Shego's soul.

About the only worse sound was the howling cry of pain following the shot.

"Aines!"

The poor naga before her received her righteous fury. She brought the sword down and cleaved it straight in half, and behind it, Kakistos stood, arms folded and lips upturned.

"Slayer's blood," he said reverently while behind him, Aines' death shrills weakened, "I haven't had any in centuries. Watchers though, they're everywhere. That's when I let them," he spread his arms out to encompass his army, "have their fun."

Even from so far away, Shego heard bone snapping and a silence louder than life itself. Her dinner--pizza and soda--threatened to make its up from her stomach, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't break, she wouldn't be weak, and she wouldn't lose, not to him.

Wet ripping, flesh tearing, blood slurping, and joints dislocating. "It's like music," he growled, his countenance (if even possible) becoming more imposing by the second, "I wonder how you'll sound... Faith, was it?"

Faith. It wasn't her name. It was an identity, but right now, it felt more like chains. Shego hated Faith, hated Faith for being so arrogant, hated Faith for getting Aines killed, hated Faith for getting her involved in this Slayer junk. Faith took over her life and wouldn't let go, not after how Aines died, not after tasting how real the real world was.

Shego wanted to run and hide but Faith wouldn't have any of that.

They'd both gone too far to stop.

Instead of answering, Shego hurled her sword into Kakistos' face and ran. She didn't even have time to sit and relish in his agony and surprise: Sunnydale was the only word on her mind.

* * *

Sorry, but I'm going to have to pull over for a little bit. Got something in my eye.

**That was...**

_A ten thousand on the gross-o-meter?_

**Ron, so not helping. Shego, are you ok?**

It's been a long time coming. What I've told the two of you, I've never told another soul and reliving it is just... just... crazy.

**You don't have to do this, tell us I mean.**

I do. I'm building up to something and you need to know my side of the story. It'll make your decision easier.

**What are you talking about?**

You'll find out.

_Hey! There's a Bueno Nacho! You can pull over there!_

**You still want to eat after the ten thousand on the gross-o-meter?**

_Nacos make everything better._

Fine, but we're only going to the drive-thru. Don't want to be late.

_Late for what?_

For your hourly ass kicking if you don't shut up.

* * *

- To be continued...


	3. What's Five by Five?

Notes: A shorter chapter this time but life's getting really busy for me. Sorry in advance if the updates are slow.

* * *

**_Oh Come All Ye Faithful_**

by Yimmy

Chapter 3: _What's Five by Five?_

* * *

"Little lady, ever been down to SoCal?" 

Shego's eyes (which were fixated on Aines' diary) floated upward to see a nearly toothless man staring at her from seat in front. "None of your business."

"Hey, hey," calmed the man, "Makin' small talk, that's all. Been lookin' round this bus for the past four hours n' I've gotz say you've gotz the saddest face. Somethin' wrong?"

Shego bared her teeth and snarled, "None of your goddamn business."

"Ok, ok, I see how it is. Wanna make small talk, that's all. I'm five by five, ain't no banger or snitch."

"Five by five?"

"You know, you know, 'five by five,' like 'it's cool' or 'I'm all good' or 'the coast is clear.'"

"How about you turn around before I knock the last teeth out of your mouth?"

The man frowned but complied, giving a dissatisfied "Harrumph" as he turned away.

Peace reclaimed, Shego closed the diary and snuggled into the uncomfortable seat. How did her life become this complicated? She left Go City with a satchel of money and her eyes rounder than the globe. She left Boston with nothing but two stakes, the clothes on her back, Aines' diary, and twenty seven dollars. Kakistos and his henchmen destroyed everything else.

And they were still hot on her trail.

She could've accepted defeat and returned to Go City. Mom and Dad would have a fit, but in the end, she'd be home and safe. Her parents were--if nothing else--loving, and she saw that now, appreciated it more since she'd run away. If Kakistos wouldn't give up, she could've used her powers to burn these vampires to cinders, maybe even get her brothers to help if there were too many.

She wouldn't have to hop from city to city, carefully rationing every dollar and seducing her way onto the next pervert-filled bus toward Sunnydale. She wouldn't have to steal in order to eat, to get new clothes, to have enough money to pay for a room at a roach motel. She wouldn't have to look over her shoulder every second, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows. She wouldn't have to live the false drama she made for herself.

But she couldn't go home and leave this all behind, not yet. Aines' diary made sure of that.

Odd enough, the diary wasn't a depressing, dreadful testament to the ridge ways of the Council. Rather the opposite: it was the story about this generation's Slayers. She wrote about a Slayer named Buffy, this incredible champion who kept the Hellmouth (a.k.a. Sunnydale)--the nexus of evil's power--in check by herself. She wrote about how Buffy's heart stopped one brief moment, and in the time it took for her friends to revive her with CPR, another Slayer was called.

Kendra. She went to Sunnydale and died in mere weeks. Buffy still continued strong to this day.

However, the majority of the book wasn't about the Council or Kendra or Buffy or even Aines herself. It was about Faith. It was about a runaway girl who wanted to be a warrior. It was about how this happy-go-lucky Watcher found the new Slayer and trained her as best she could. It was about the pinnacle of a Watcher's existence, the equivalent of winning the lottery, the once in a lifetime chance to instruct the new Chosen, to make her better than those who came before her.

It was about Aines and her growing pride in Faith. It was about how the Watcher came to care for this violent and often confused girl. It was about their growing bond. It was about Aines' near-maternal instincts for Faith, how she couldn't maintain her Watcher's detachedness, how she found it difficult to send her charge on dangerous tasks.

Then, blank pages.

Shego suppressed the dirty feeling creeping under her skin. She'd lied to Aines, given the woman an illusion of honor and happiness. That illusion got Kakistos' attention and... and...

Aines' screams sounded just as loud now as they did three weeks ago.

She couldn't walk away from this undead world because she owed Aines. Seeing this through was an insignificant sorry after the unchangeable disaster, but at least it was something. Her conscience wouldn't shut up, invading her dreams and prodding her on like a merciless slave driver, like Aines herself when they trained.

Stupid hero business. Stupid conscience. Would be so much easier if she said screw it all and became a villain. No responsibilities, no motivations other than her own, no expectations--must've been fun to be bad.

Maybe that's why the world never lacked villains: being bad was easier than being good.

"Last stop, Sunnydale!"

Finally. Outside, a large sign displaying "Welcome to Sunnydale" zoomed by Shego's vision. The sign made her arrival real, real enough for her to slump her shoulders in exhaustion and let out the sigh that had been building up for ages. Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, the home of one Buffy Anne Summers, the best (and only) form of backup she had against Kakistos and his overwhelming forces.

Backup. Shego tried to scoff at the idea but couldn't bring herself to do it: Kakistos was too ruthless, too deadly, too much. Whatever the case, in the end, she came here to clean her conscience, to swallow her pride for Aines and her memory. After that...

After that, Faith, heroines, and saving the world could go to hell.

"Little lady, you ever been to Sunn-"

"Shut up."

* * *

All my life I never lacked anything. I never had to truly survive on my own. In those three weeks, I found out what it was like to be cold, scared, hungry, hunted, weak, and alone. Didn't like it much. Promised myself something like that would never happen to me again, and well, you two know I keep my promises. 

_You could've called your brothers._

Unlike you, I still had my pride. And if you drop a piece of food on those leather seats...

_The Ronster is a master of eating in the backseat! Chill!_

... I'd say some sexual innuendo right now if I knew it wouldn't be wasted on you.

_Huh?_

**What do- Oh. Ooooooh! Shego, that's so perverted!**

Don't worry, Kimmie, I only eat the ones I love.

_What? I still don't get it._

Don't go changing on us, Stoppable.

* * *

She'd been in this town for two days and she already wanted out. Nothing about Sunnydale appealed to her, not the nasty demons, not the nonexistent nightlife, not the constant sense of foreboding, and certainly not the backwater town mentality. Thought this was California, the cutting edge of the American lifestyle--why did it feel like country bumpkin Creston, Iowa? Why did witches and demons run around here like Salem? Why did the motels have to be so dirty and shady? Why did every other person look like an inbred hick? 

Where the hell was Buffy?

Find Buffy. Find Kakistos. Kill Kakistos. Feel better. Simple equation yet it became so very hard to solve because the world conspired against her.

Shego dug into her pocket and counted the last of her money: twelve dollars and seventeen cents. Enough for two or three meals but not enough to keep her holed up at her unbearable motel for another night. Her clothes, having been washed at the laundry mat once she got into town, didn't have time to build up that strange but now-too-familiar funk. It'd be coming soon enough.

Twelve dollars and seventeen cents for food, shelter, and personal hygiene? Not even the cheapest of the cheap could pull that off.

As the glum note deflated the reminder of Shego's optimism, soft beats sounded off in the distance. Beats, like club beats or loud music or something not completely lifeless, perked up her ears. Sunnydale had a club? Clubs meant sweaty people, free flowing alcohol, greasy food, and importantly, wallets to pick.

Rounding a corner, she happened upon a non-descript street but at the end of it, a blazing, neon sign proclaiming "The Bronze" caught her eye. Yes, that's where the loud music emanated from but no lines and no bouncers gave her pause. What self-respecting club didn't have bouncers? With all the vampires and other underworld things in town, you'd think a few beefy meatheads standing guard would be a prerequisite.

Still, a club was a club.

Suddenly, the timid girl who hated this place and didn't know what to do with herself disappeared. Replacing her was another creature, one born from necessity and nurtured by every moment Aines had let her loose in Boston's underbelly.

She exuded confidence.

Danger radiated from her.

She was every boys' (and not a few girls') living dream.

With a swagger in her step and her hips swinging side to side, she hit the Bronze like no one before and certainly no one since. Though the music didn't stop to hail her entrance, everything with a pulse--and some without--laid their gazes on her, on this magnetic newcomer. She had those wild eyes and a go-all-night body which promised to be hard to tame and equally hard to catch. She didn't move through the crowd as much as she cut through it, reminiscent of a hungry shark. The pale skin and leather clothes shielded her true age making it beholden to the mind's eye. The half-pout, half-smile melted stoic faces and begged for crimes to be committed on its behalf. When she began swaying to the beat, an impromptu crowd swirled around her, caught up like loose debris at the mercy of a twister.

One face blurred into the next. The dance floor darkened, illuminated by throbbing, multicolored lights. A man's body, a woman's arms, Shego moved about them teasingly and they fell for her, fought for her.

She let out a feral smile and watched for her first target.

In another time, guilt might've overtaken her for exploiting these people. If she wasn't hungry, stressed out, haunted, and frustrated, she might've been less immoral. Fact of the matter was, she didn't feel an ounce of guilt for reaching around this shaggy guy's back and yanking his money clip out of his pocket.

Why treat the perverts and freaks like anything but easy marks? Perverts and freaks, all of them, made her wonder why she ever risked her life for these people. Made her wonder why Aines died so these useless folk could live, so that they could continue on being easy marks. These easy marks didn't deserve her tears, her blood, her sweat, or her pity.

A teenie bopper girl who couldn't have been more than thirteen caught Shego's eye. Flat chested but already dressing like a slut--mommy would be so proud. Mommy wouldn't be so proud if someone took that big roll of bills sticking out of the tramp's waistband. Only idiots and strippers danced with money gushing out of their pants, and in Shego's opinion, both could go to hell.

Literally, the real one, the one where all the demons and vampires and crazy gods in Aines' books came from.

Just as she was to swoop in and claim her cash, a typical frat boy--American Eagle shirt and matching cargos in tow--cut her off, wedged himself between her and the bite-sized teen. Brave man that one, not to mention oblivious and stupid, but Shego respected bravery. Not quite wanting to start a scene yet, she moved on to greener pastures.

She never forgave or forgot. He'd get his soon.

Around the dance floor she traversed, pilfering whenever the opportunity presented itself. By the time she lifted her eighth wallet, the constant moving and tight leather clothes bathed her in a light sheen of sweat. Moving on to the bar, she ordered a ice water from the harried bartender. The glass didn't even get a chance to plunk down before her dried lips were on it, relishing in the cooling drink.

"You were amazing out there."

Slowly, Shego turned around. From the voice alone, she pictured to see a tall, corn-fed, farm raised boy sporting brownish blonde hair. He sounded like one of those ineffable and painfully annoying do-gooders, his back straight like a ramrod and his eyes twinkling in the "big city" lights. The way he said what he said told of a cocky confidence and self-believed importance.

Funny how things like this always met right up with expectations.

Shego put her glass down and preened at him. "Like what you see?"

From the way he grinned back stupidly and stuttered, the country boy didn't have a line ready. Seemed like he was more ready to be shot down than acknowledged. So much for the confidence and self-importance.

"Here's a tip, beefstick," drawled Shego, circling past him, "Don't try the jungle gym if you can't handle the sandbox."

She slapped his butt hard, gave a giggle, and disappeared back into the swarming crowds. Between the pitiable pick-up attempt, his sore behind, and his even more wounded ego, the guy rubbed his tender spot and frowned angrily at himself. His tongue caught and he couldn't talk, but less say anything suave or meaningful. Stupid! He was always like this around attractive women, awkward and mute.

"Oh! That was cold, Riley! She smoked ya like a salmon!"

Riley looked to his two friends--Forrest and Graham--who stood nearby and heard the entire exchange. "Least I tried, Forrest. Neither of you dipshits were even thinking about going up to her."

"Hey," said Graham, holding his hands up as if to back off, "I told the two of you, she's jailbait. I don't touch that stuff. Might get court-martialed for doing girls like her."

Forrest snorted. "Man, jailbait don't got titties like that."

"Can't a guy have some sympathy from his wingmen?"

"Here's the lowdown," smiled Forrest, "You buy us a round and we'll play wingmen for real, get you nice n' hooked up with that hot piece o' ass!"

"I'm telling you: j-a-i-l-b-a-i-t."

"Don't listen to him, Riley, I've got your back."

Behind Forrest's prompting, the love-starved college student fumbled into his back pocket for his wallet and... and...

"Umm, guys, you see my wallet anywhere?"

* * *

**Aren't you hungry?**

Little bit, but I'm driving.

**Can't you use your other-**

Killer Bebe, remember? Messed up my hand and I can't use it for a while.

**I never got a chance to ask you about that.**

I'll be fine, Kimmie.

_Didn't the doctors say you have ne-_

Finish that sentence and I'll pull your lip over your face.

_Hehe, I'll just, um, eat my tasty, tasty naco. _

**Ron, what happened to her?**

She might be your best friend, Stoppable, but is telling her really worth trying to get the taste of your own head out of your mouth?

**Didn't I tell you to stop threatening Ron?**

Sure Princess, just like I told you to stop interrupting me.

**So not the drama...

* * *

**

Tonight was a good night. The haul? About two hundred dollars, a bunch of driver's licenses, a gift card to Starbucks, and a whole load of student IDs. Why in the world would people want to go to UC Sunnydale? It was the proverbial UC doormat, dead last in every academic category. Before she'd run off, Shego was in the midst of college applications and-

God damn it, not again. She'd been thinking about home too much. Her resolve to live this grand adventure chipped away, worn down by fear and less than appealing conditions. Home sounded so good: a fluffy bed, a hot meal, cable television, her friends, and the familiarity of it all. Home became more and more, like a sweet, enticing oasis in this desert of peril. Even if she had to put up with Hego's stupid antics, even if she was going to be grounded for the rest of her life, at this point, home was heaven.

"Help! Please! Someone help!"

The declaration came from an alley across the street. Against her better judgment, Shego slinked over to the disturbance and peered in. Typical scene, actually: guy with his hands on a struggling girl's shoulders. Two things made the scene atypical: the guy's face (vamped out) and the girl (the previously mentioned teenie bopper girl at the club). On closer inspection, the guy even looked like the frat boy who cut her off, you know, the one wearing American Eagle gear and thinking he was all that.

Shego pulled a stake out of her jacket and walked into the alley. "Can't score in your own age bracket, huh?"

The vampire looked up and threw his current prey back. "I'm always willing to upgrade."

He expected the leather wearing newcomer to scream, run, or banter another round. What he got was the heel of her shoe smashing into his temple and sending his head into one of the dirty, grimy alley's walls. A fist bludgeoned his gut, right at his solar plexus. Before the pain even registered in full, an arm captured his neck in a headlock and twisted. Crack went a few vertebrae. As he dropped to the ground, a singular, piercing sensation in his chest made him gasp, and poof, he was no more.

Tucking away her stake, Shego turned her attention to the sobbing girl behind her. Away from the club's age shielding lights, she looked so very young. Her eyes big and round, her black hair messed up, the girl reminded Shego of a fallen bird or newborn kitten. A sense of innocence enveloped her, but Shego knew better.

Innocent girls didn't hang around clubs at this time of night.

At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to condemn this young, fragile thing, much less steal her money (which, by the way, still stuck out of her pants). The rebellious, devil-may-care attitude resonated with Shego.

Lucky her.

"Get out of here," Shego said as she bent down to check the frat boy's now dusty clothes, "You didn't see anything."

The girl snapped out of her frightened shock and ran down the opposite side of the alley, never looking back.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say there's a new Slayer in town."

The sudden, masculine, and monotonous voice startled Shego. She whipped around and saw a gang of teens consisting of three women (a blonde, a brunette, and a red head) and two guys (one short, one tall). The petite blonde in the middle stood out in front, obviously the ring leader of the group. She had these intense green eyes that belied her wispy, sinewy body. While physically smaller than everyone else, she stood head and shoulders above the others, an untouchable fire burning in the way every part of her moved.

She was beautiful, delicate, dangerous.

"You've got to be Buffy."

The blonde raised her eye brows. "And you are?"

"Faith, Vampire Slayer. I'm kinda... disappointed."

"Why's that?"

"I thought you'd be taller."

* * *

B wasn't your typical Slayer. For starters, she'd been doing it longer than most others. Something about her kept her alive--friends, family, determination, something, or maybe even a combination of somethings. In a lot of ways, Kimmie, B was like you, looking out for the world and never really expecting much in return. By the time I came along, she'd saved the world two times over and killed the man she loved because he'd gone "bring hell to earth" bad. 

Like I said, she had something about her.

While Aines taught me how to fight, I'm sure B was the one who showed me how to win. She burned with a competitive fire, much more intense than mine or yours and we're already prime, Type A girls. When you're the only person who can save the world from blowing up, you've got to have a brand new kind of spunk and B had it in spades. She rubbed off on me big time.

**Is that a good or bad thing?**

Still figuring that out.

* * *

- To be continued... 


	4. The Chosen Two

Notes: Life's getting even more busy. I have a relatively longer chapter this time but it's going to be a while before the next one comes out. Thanks for understanding! Oh yeah, and thanks for all the great reviews! Keep them coming!

**_

* * *

_**

**_Oh Come All Ye Faithful_**

by Yimmy

Chapter 4: _The Chosen Two

* * *

_

"The whole summer it was, like, the worst heat wave. So it's 118 degrees and I'm sleeping without a stitch on, and all of a sudden I hear this screaming from outside. I go tearing out, stark nude, and this church bus has broken down and there's these three vamps feasting on half the Baptists in South Boston. So I waste the vamps and the preacher comes up, and he's hugging me like there's no tomorrow, when all of a sudden the cops pull up and they arrested us both."

Xander, the taller guy in Buffy's entourage, smiled the smile of a pubescent boy going through his father's pornography stash. As his eyes shined with that "motherload" luster, he drooled, "Wow! They should film that story and show it every Christmas!"

Willow (the mousy red head), Cordelia (the queen-bitch-and-proud-of-it brunette), and Rupert Giles (Buffy's remarkably cute, British Watcher) gave Xander varying stares ranging from "Grow up" to "You're going to die now." Oz (the shorter guy with the monotonous voice and an arm around Willow) took the comment in stride.

And Buffy? Well, she was stunned. Not quite speechless but definitely stunned. "Do you do that all the time?"

"Save Baptists from vampires?" asked Shego.

Xander perked up again. "Sleep naked?"

"No," sighed Buffy, "the getting arrested part."

"Sometimes and no," the "other Slayer" answered, grinning ear to ear as she leaned back into her chair. "Nice place you've got here. This library open twenty four seven?"

"Kinda," happily chirped Willow. When all eyes descended upon her, nerves claimed her. "I mean, only when there's demons to be killed or apocalypses to stop but seeing how we live in Sunnyhell that means all the time so like yeah I guess this library is open all the time or when Giles here is in because none of us have keys to library because this one time Xander left it unlocked so it's only open when Giles is here and there's an apocalypse coming oh and during school hours even though no one comes here except for us."

The continuous babbling impressed Shego who until now had never seen a person--not even Hego--talk for so long without pause or breath. She showed her appreciation by staring at the girl in rapt amazement. The others seemed used to the phenomenon and just waited for the red head to recover from panting and blushing.

When she did, Giles took off his glass, cleaned them with a handkerchief, and cleared his throat. "Well, that was certainly a succinct summary of our recent activities, wasn't it? Now, Faith, where is your Watcher?"

Everyone except Buffy groaned at the no fun, starchy Giles who put an end to them poking and prodding this new Slayer. He steered the conversation back to business and the only person who didn't have any beef with that was Buffy, Buffy who seemed apprehensive, Buffy who seemed put off by everyone being so interested in Shego, Buffy who seemed jealous of Shego's carefree spirit and incredulous stories.

Suddenly, Shego didn't feel like spilling her guts about Aines, Kakistos, and her arrival in Sunnydale. Defensive minded people tended to not trust hostile people, and within the last few weeks, out of necessity, Shego got really defensive really quick. Her blossoming instincts told her she needed to be better than Buffy, to not cowl before this arrogant wisp of a cheerleader. Kakistos' goons were showing up everywhere and it'd only be a short while before he pinned Shego down in Sunnydale. If and when he came, that's when Buffy would hear about him.

She couldn't stomach giving the other girl any reason to look down on her.

"She's on some kind of vacation," Shego lied.

A dawn of understanding came to Giles. "The Watcher's retreat in England?"

Despite not knowing what he was talking about, Shego nodded. "Yeah, retreat. Bunch of stuffy people stuffed inside a stuffy room. Not my kind of scene, you know?"

"FYI," said Xander, butting his way in, "this is Giles, stuffy dude extraordinaire."

"Thank you, Xander, I couldn't have described myself any better."

The boy blinked. "Was that dry, British sarcasm or an honest observation?"

"Oh oh oh," Willow jumped, "I vote for dry, British sarcasm!"

Tired of the (according to her) useless exchange, Cordelia thwacked Xander's arm (eliciting in a girly "Ow!"). "I don't know about you other losers but I have class tomorrow. If all you're going to do is blabber at this new Slayer like a puppy then Xander and I are leaving."

"Hey," whined Xander, "What if there's something important going down?"

"Then I'm sure it won't involve you."

"Ouch, geez, Cordy, leggo of my arm will you!"

Thus went the swirling amalgam of destruction known as Cordelia and Xander, storming out of the library and leaving a trail of grunts, whines, and sharp comments in its wake.

Giles massaged his aching head. "I suppose meeting tomorrow afternoon would be a prudent idea. Faith, do you have anywhere to stay?"

"I'm five by five. Got a motel room downtown."

Head cocked and face quizzical, Oz voiced the question on everyone's mind. "Five by five?"

"You know, 'five by five,' like 'it's cool' or 'I'm all good' or 'the coast is clear.'"

"Five by five," Oz repeated with a shrug, "Huh."

"But those motels downtown are terrible," said Willow.

"Don't got much of a choice, Red. It's either that dive or a park bench and I don't like benches."

Willow--oh gentle creature she was--gasped at the "Slayer's" plight. "But Buffy has a spare room at her house," she said with growing delight, "You could stay there!"

Meanwhile, Buffy almost fell out of her chair. With a look that could (and probably did at some point) kill, she barked a sharp, "Wills!"

The protest wasn't lost on anyone. Disappointment appeared on Giles' face, disappointment over his usually big-hearted charge's embarrassing attitude. Not everyone was fortunate enough to have money or a strong support system and he thought Buffy's experiences--being shunned by the popular crowd, running away from home, and helping her friends through their various trials--taught her better. Oz bit his lip, about the only hint of emotion he'd shown all night. His message: "I know you're the Slayer but don't talk to my girlfriend like that." Willow contributed the starkest reaction, descending from bubbly, friendly heights to flat out rejection, complete with quaking mouth and teary eyes.

No one needed to say a word.

Shego shifted her discrete glance from person to person, inwardly glowing at the awkward silence. The infallible Buffy Summers' friends angry at her? From the way Aines wrote about the blonde, it must've been a first.

Aines. That twang of guilt and pain struck again, and though it dulled with repetition, it remained strong enough for her to wince. The others interpreted the slight flinch as rejection which added more fuel to the fire Buffy had started.

"Great idea," the blonde stammered, "I mean, 'Wills! Great idea.' Kind of spaced out for a second." She finished off the lame save with an embarrassed laugh.

Watch her squirm, watch her blush, watch her lose that arrogant edge. Shego, these thoughts in mind, twisted the proverbial dagger. "I can read the writing on the wall," she shrugged, "No big. Not a lot of people want a sorry charity case, you know? I'll deal."

Screech echoed the wooden chair as it scraped against the library's hard floor. Shego stood, gave a general nod to everyone there, and sauntered out the door, out to the high school's empty halls, out to the vampire filled, Sunnydale night. The satisfaction gleaned from watching Buffy squirm warmed her against the biting winds. Always had a bit of the sadist in her, but this was rich and priceless. This was... was...

Wrong. On so many levels.

There it was again, her conscience. Why wouldn't it shut up? Didn't it cause enough problems already? Christ, why did that little voice in the back of her head insist on making her uneasy at every corner? Couldn't she enjoy her modicum of victory for one measly moment?

Villains had it easy. No conscience, no problems. It wouldn't insist on being honorable or honest. No more "following the rules" or "feeling bad about wanting, taking, and having." Sure, villains had to run from the law all the time but they didn't have to put up with themselves. How cool was that? How cool was being able to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted and be truly ok with it?

Stupid conscience.

"Faith!"

That name again! Gah! It sent bitter chills up Shego's spine, no thanks to her c-o-n-s-c-i-e-n-c-e. Yup, villains had it made.

Shego slowed but resisted the urge to turn around and gloat. "What's up, Buffy?"

"I... You can... It's not really..."

Ah, speechless now, the perfect time to lay it on thick. "Listen, you don't need to do anything for me. Haven't had any favors in a long while so it's nothing new. My life, my problems, my way, and all that stuff."

"I'm trying to be nice," the blonde offered.

"What? After you were about to light into your friend? After I spent the whole night watching you size me up like competition for your job? Not feeling the nice part."

"I'm trying, ok?" Her voice unrepentantly raised and caught Shego off guard. "You're not the only one with problems."

"Got friends, got family, got a roof over your head, what do you need to worry about?"

"You should understand since you're a Slayer too!"

Shit, she wasn't a Slayer. She trained like one, fought like one, and with her powers brought on by that fateful meteor, probably even equated to one, but she wasn't. She wasn't bound by duty or destiny, just... just...

An annoying conscience and an unwavering sense of honor bestowed by her parents. "Yeah," muttered Shego, "Slayer, I get it."

Apparently, Buffy didn't catch the sincerity. "I live with the world's existence on my shoulders. I get up every morning and know if I don't give this job everything I have, no one is going to have a future. Do you have any idea what it's like to know that if you fail, your mom is going to die? How about knowing that one of these days, no matter how hard you try, it's not going to mean anything because it only takes one mistake to mess this all up? Do you know what it feels like to kill the man you love because he turned evil thanks to something you did? No, you haven't been here long enough--forget that, you haven't been a Slayer long enough--to know what it's like living on the Hellmouth."

They'd stopped a while ago, the dead-looking high school still in the view. Buffy's voice carried far and wide, sounding off into the Sunnydale sky like a trumpet. Her words spent, the blonde folded her arms around herself in an effort to keep warm. She didn't back down and she didn't advance, instead waiting for Shego's next move.

And Shego was taken back by the realization that this person--only a year older than Shego herself--lived with such a burden. Even in the worst of worst scenarios with Team Go, someone else would've stepped up to stop Avarius. That was the thing with evil villains: even when they did take over the world (or country or city), they were so delusional and crazy that everything they'd worked for would fall apart.

Not here, not with Buffy. Bad guys win, then it's literally game over for all of civilization. The stark truth left Shego's mouth dry and a scant trace of uncertainty in her. Maybe coming to Sunnydale wasn't such a good idea. Maybe Aines' memory should've stayed in Boston, torn asunder like her body. Maybe it was time to go home.

Finally turning around, Shego fell into two pools of glistening green. Her heart skipped a beat. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying sorry," said Buffy without sounding a bit apologetic. "Stuff happens and I get stressed."

"Makes living with you a drag, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes."

"Which means I'm probably better off at the motel."

"You're just being stubborn now."

"No, I don't want your pity. The only reason you're even out here is because your superfriends gave you the cold shoulder. If you had your way..."

"Don't even finish that sentence. You don't know me well enough to say a word."

"I don't know you well enough not to say what I did." Shego put her hands on her hips and frowned. "You pointed it out: you're not the only person with problems. Yeah, I haven't had to stop an apocalypse, but I have to deal with shit you don't even consider, shit like where's my next meal coming from, where am I going to sleep. Might not be as sexy as saving the fucking world, but in my eyes, different problems don't mean less importance."

Buffy opened her mouth to retort but a familiar, dangerous chill tingled about her skin. Vampires, a lot of them, and they closed in fast. Shego, her own battle prowess honed, heard feet shuffling and cloth rustling from the shadows. Combining that with the blonde's reaction, she took out a stake from her jacket and readied herself.

From the roof of a small convenience store jumped three men. Three more slid out of a previously empty alley. Two came up from the manhole in the middle of the street. None of them looked like the just-risen variety of undead.

"The Slayer must die," one of them intoned.

Another finished, "So says Kakistos."

The name ignited fear in Shego's heart, but instead of succumbing to it, she let it fuel her rage. Her knuckles turned bone white as her grip tightened around the stake. She felt a hidden strength well up within her, pumping her blood faster and faster. Kakistos forced this Slayer's existence on her, ruined her grand adventure, killed a friend, and just wouldn't stop.

"Kakistos?" repeated Buffy. "Never heard of it. Is that a breath mint like Mentos?"

Shego crashed into the pair in the middle of the street, a fitting accent to signal the fight's start. They landed solid blows to her face and stomach; they gnashed their fangs and tore at her arms. The pain, however, didn't register in Shego's consumed mind. All that remained was the will to fight, to win, to quiet her conscience, to be free from Aines, Kakistos, and Faith.

She grabbed one of the vampires by the jaw, forced his mouth open, and rammed the exposed fangs--along with the appropriate head--into her other opponent's eye. Before blood and vitreous humor could spill out, the stake went through one heart, kept going as the vampire turned to dust, and found the other's heart.

A sharp kick hit Shego's back and made her drop her weapon. The three from the roof came rushing in. They quickly kissed the pavement when Shego dropped and lashed her leg out in a wide arch, falling them in a smooth motion. A frighteningly cold smile in place, she withdrew her second backup stake and the vampires went poof, poof-

The last one stopped her. She recognized his face from that night in Boston. He was one of those waiting on the street for her and Aines, one of those who took part in mangling the Watcher. The two combatants locked gazes, and in that time, the vampire knew his death would not be swift or painless.

The stake burying itself in his throat made sure of that.

With her bare hands, Shego beat the vampire. Silence and darkness embraced her in a state of sensory deprivation. Her entire world consisted of her fists and his rapidly unrecognizable face. Each second resulted in a new alteration like a broken cheek bone or a shattered and distended mandible. Pretty soon, the face didn't resemble a face anymore, but Shego didn't mind. She yelled at the vampire but couldn't hear herself. She bathed in the unbridled violence until a sickening uppercut separated head from body.

The vampire faded into nothingness. Shego returned to herself.

Her bleeding knuckles, cut by bone and cement, shined like rubies. Far away but getting closer was Buffy's voice.

"Faith!"

Blood, so much blood, so much pain. Was this how they made Aines feel?

"Faith! Little help!"

Slowly, Shego lifted her head. In the time it took for her to dust her attackers, more came from out of nowhere and swarmed Buffy. The blonde looked to be holding her own, but nine against one didn't seem like good odds even for the best poker player in town. Forcing back the sluggishness, Shego scooped up her fallen stakes and leapt into the fray.

Her strikes pierced foreheads, stomachs, and even genitalia, each aimed at inflicting agony. Her kicks knocked bodies over and bent knees backwards. She fought to torture. She fought to show these vampires her frustration and guilt. She snapped joints, crushed bones, split sides, and smashed heads. She fought hard, harder than Buffy.

Of course, Buffy opted for efficiency.

Between the two, the vampires didn't stand a chance. Soon, the street was empty save for two women and heapings of dust.

As if their tension laden conversation never stopped, the blonde snapped, "What the hell were you doing!"

"Slaying, what else?"

"No, you were beating the those vampires like eggs!"

"Gee, if doing violence to vampires upsets you, you're in wrong line of work."

"The job is to slay demons, not beat them to a bloody pulp while their friends corner me."

"You were fine. Since when did the great Buffy Summers need help?"

How much more infuriating could this woman be? She didn't take life seriously, she offered little help or understanding, and she was more self-absorbed than the high school quarterback. So much for the olive branch and Slayer togetherness! "You know what? Go back to your crappy motel! Go beat on vampires and whatever you want to do! I don't care!"

"Fine, wasn't looking for your approval anyway, B."

"B?"

"B, short for Buffy. I figured Buffy was too tall a name for you bite-sized Slayers."

Responding with words seemed so inappropriate. This swirl of angst, belligerence, antagonism, bonding, and insults called for an extreme response, for example the mean roundhouse kick (followed, of course, by a guttural yell) that Buffy threw.

Not enjoying being used as a practice dummy, Shego tackled the blonde as she recovered from the attack. The two rolled around on the sidewalk, fighting for leverage and supremacy while shards of glass from broken bear bottles and carjackings cut their skin. Sucker punches and crafty knees blended in with hair pulling and biting until Buffy ended up on top. However, before she could do anything with her advantage, Shego crashed her forehead against Buffy's, knocking both of them senseless on impact.

And being a real, honest Slayer, Buffy came to first. In another time, she would've wondered why Faith didn't get up as fast as she herself. In another time, she wouldn't have attacked another human being. In another time, she wouldn't have advanced and kicked her poor opponent while she was down.

This wasn't another time.

"How this one, F?" Her foot met Shego's side. "How does your own medicine taste, F?" A heel clocked Shego's head. "This take your mind off your problems!"

"Buffy!"

Her name said with that distinctive British accent halted her passionate madness. Dismay sifting into her heart, she looked from a beaten Faith on the ground to her three appalled friends--Giles, Willow, and Oz--not twenty feet away. Immediately Giles and Willow attended to the moaning girl, checking her for any serious wounds.

Oz stood back and shrugged. "This is probably why there's only one Slayer every generation."

* * *

**Wow, so Buffy beat you.**

Cleaned my clock and took my lunch money.

**Was she really that good?**

Maybe. I'd like to go a round or two with her today, just to see how she takes the plasma. And let's face it, Princess, I've learned a few tricks over the years. Who knows? Might not even be close, but it's a question I can't really answer anymore.

**Why's that?**

B and I, we had a falling out.

_How could it get any worse?_

Well, after the fight, B and Giles brought me to her house to patch me up. Guess that's where the lusty friendship started. In the end, that's whatruined things.

_Lusty... friendship?_

Kimmie, you might wanna hand Stoppable a bag. Looks like he's going to hyperventilate.

* * *

"I have no words for you, young lady."

Buffy winced under her mom's withering glare. Joyce Summers was a imposing, bull-minded, fiercely independent woman who survived an unloving marriage, single parenthood, and her daughter's nocturnal activities. Underneath the dainty exterior lay a tigress who could protect her child just as easily as she scolded it. Even Slayers capitulated to their mothers.

"You aren't the daughter I raised. It's like I don't know you anymore."

In the midst of the blonde's tongue lashing, Shego should've felt triumph but the spiteful glee abandoned her. Joyce's pained voice held overtones of her own mother's, each disbelieving of their children's' acts.

Been a long time since she'd last seen her mom. Their last moments together consisted of angry shouts and flowing tears, not the happiest times. A rash decision, a means to an end, and a stubborn will separated Shego from home, and in that time, her anger and bitterness subsided, much to her chagrin. Regret rooted itself in her already aching heart, forbidding her--despite her attempts--to take joy in Buffy's pain.

Giles, who aimlessly cleaned and recleaned Shego's meticulously bandaged wounds, cleared his throat. "Joyce, it's very late. Perhaps Faith should stay at my-"

"No, Rupert," insisted the elder Summers, "Buffy needs to talk with Faith alone."

"But Mom-"

Joyce leveled a dreadful expression at her resilient daughter to shut down the protest. "I am going to bed. I want you to do the right thing but I want you to do it on your own, not because I told you."

Giles took off his glasses and massage the bridge of his nose. "Well, I guess this is goodnight then. Don't worry, I'll serve as a mediator between them."

"Alone, Rupert."

That stopped the Englishman as he moved to clean his glasses. "Excuse me?"

Joyce sighed and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. "Alone," she repeated, "That means no mediator."

"Ah." Giles shuffled about, his lips upturned in that shy, ironic smile of his. "I'll be... Maybe I should... Goodnight it is, then?"

Like that, the adults faded away, Watcher out the door and mother up the stairs. The departures left the living room dead as each girl fought their own internal battles. Between the self-reflection and questions about what to do, Buffy sat down next to Shego, perhaps in a show of acceptance, perhaps as an opportunity to stall. Crickets chirping in the background blunted the silence's edge, but in the end, they were still left to squirm alone but with each other.

Never one to take emotional tension very well, Shego broke the ice.

"Your mom's wicked."

Nowadays, wicked meant a lot of things. Wicked meant hardcore, evil, cool, devious, and awesome, all in one utterance. "Wicked how?"

"Wicked like all good moms should be."

Not wanting this tangent end, Buffy replied, "She gets like that most of the time."

"Then she's a good mom most of the time."

"So's that how your mom is too?"

"I..."

I'm only here to prove that I can make it on my own? I haven't seen my parents in months and I'm sure they're worried sick about me? I've been lying my ass off this whole entire time and I don't want to tell you anything more? I'm jealous that your mom lets you do this Slayer stuff the way you want to, even the apologizing part, which was so unlike mine who freaked out at having kids who were superheroes?

"No," Shego said, sliding away from Buffy to hide the uneasiness.

"Oh."

The blonde made assumptions at the terse answer. She knew the signs of emotional distress, herself a recent victim of the silent pain. Ever since she sent Angel to hell ("Angelus," she reminded herself), the nights grew drearier, the days less invigorating. The memories of that fateful moment haunted her, broke her, and forced her further from her friends and family. She couldn't keep the soul burning depression away, and in the end, she ran. She ran away from home, tried to live another life, and failed.

Buffy knew this silent pain well. She knew the signs, the unwillingness to talk and to give it a form. She knew how much it hurt, how the world expected the Slayer to be strong even when she wasn't. She knew enough to see Shego's clouded eyes and draw her own conclusions...

Conclusions which, had she known the truth, weren't too far off.

"I'm sorry, Faith."

"Didn't mean much when you said it earlier, B."

"I mean it this time."

"You're sorry because your mommy and Watcher told you to say so, that's all. The only thing you're probably sorry over is not taking a few more cheap shots at me when you had the chance."

"What else do you want? I feel like I'm two feet tall, my friends and family probably think I have a few screws loose, and you... you're a..."

"I'm a what? A bitch?"

"No. You're a mystery."

"Guess what, B? I haven't figured out myself either so we're in the same boat."

"If that's the case, why don't we start over?"

Um, "Huh?"

"Start over, like from square one."

Shego rolled her eyes at the hackneyed attempt at peace. "My ribs hurt and I have a wicked bruise on the side of my head. Can't hit the reset button on that, now can we?"

"No, but I can try and that's more than what I can say for you."

The seemingly innocuous comment pierced Shego's apathetic mystique. The fundamental wrongness of the situation, of watching someone squirm, got to her (again). After the adrenaline wore off, after all the sorrys were said, after what sounded and looked like a sincere apology, she couldn't find the wherewithal to still be angry at Buffy.

God damn conscience, there it was. Villains never forgave transgressions or defeats, that's why they always kept coming back for more. Only good guys forgave, and despite her conscious rebellion, Shego's continued mockery of Buffy's words grew more difficult. The little angel on her shoulder dragged her kicking and screaming into the blonde's shoes, into the role of threatened, insulted, and stressed out Slayer as opposed to her current freeloading fun seeker caught up in remarkable circumstances.

It sucked, enough for Shego to relent, droop her shoulders, and cease her sulking. "You want to start over? Fine, but I don't guarantee liking you this time around."

An indignant spark reenergized Buffy. "Goes both ways, F. I'm liking you less already."

Like an uncoiling spring, Shego closed the distance on Buffy in a flash, her temper flaring and overriding her uneasiness. They tussled about the couch, arms and hair flailing in all directions. The lamp on the end table shook dangerously as the struggle reached critical proportions. Just before the lamp broke, Buffy's mom woke, and all hell gushed out of the Summers home, the girls stopped.

Shego lay on top of the blonde with a forearm around her neck and a hand (which was suppose to be on a shoulder) on a soft mound of breast. Buffy had a crushing grip on one of Shego's wrists and another hand (which was suppose to be looking for leverage to flip said opponent off the sofa) palming sensitive nether regions. Heavy panting stymied attempts to talk, and for the first time, they were allowed to look each other in the eye, each so full of fire and emotion.

Maybe it was because of adolescent hormones. Maybe it was because Buffy was attractive. Maybe... maybe Shego wanted to see what those luscious lips would feel like. But before she could see for herself, Buffy stole what was rightfully hers: their first kiss.

* * *

She knew I wanted to kiss her and she beat me to it. I think she did it to spite me even though she was straight as an arrow and couldn't stand the sight of me. We brought out that fight in each other, that will to be the dominant one, but we stopped that night. God damn it, she stole our first kiss and stopped short. She mumbled something about being embarrassed and hasty, something about not being gay, and ran upstairs. I didn't know whether to be hurt, happy, or angry. Again I cursed myself for leaving home and getting into this mess. My entire body buzzed but my mind was so tired--it was like a bad case of insomnia, all laying awake and not knowing what to do about it.

Eventually I fell asleep on the couch while wondering how bad this day had gone: I felt like shit physically and mentally, I'd gotten beat at every turn with B, and Kakistos was in town. To think, I had no idea that GJ and Betty Director were about to make everything even worse.

**What does GJ have to do with vampires and demons?**

A whole lot. Betty doesn't tell anyone everything. She loves keeping people in the dark and surprising them to prove her points. For example, did you know that GJ has a supernatural division called the Initiative?

**How come the Initiative sounds like a bad TV series knockoff?**

Laugh all you want, Kimmie, but GJ's got its grubby little hands in everyone's business, namely yours and mine. I'm aiming to change that. You'll see.

* * *

- To be continued...


	5. Story's End

Notes: Finally I make an update to this story! Thank you so very much for your patience and I hope it answers some of the questions you've been wondering about. Oh, because it's been such a long time, here's a refresher: regular text is Shego talking, **bolded** text is Kim, and _italics_ is Ron (You know, just like previous chapters!).

* * *

**_Oh Come All Ye Faithful_**

by Yimmy

Chapter 5: _Story's End_

* * *

"Ah, Ms. Summers, and I'm assuming this is... Faith?" 

Shego froze at the library's door. The morning started like a whirlwind, B getting ready for school and B's mom being a typical parent and gracious hostess all in one. Without being pushy but still being firm, Joyce cajoled Shego into coming to school with her daughter to, in her words, "Talk more with Mr. Giles about your Slayer business." Last night seemed like a bad memory for everyone, and just for a moment, for one measly morning, a ray of sunlight shined on Shego's dreary existence.

Then Dr. Betty Director appeared out of nowhere.

Oh, the two recognized each other well enough. Between their unique styles and distinctive voices, either of them would have to be deaf and blind to not have their mental bells ring. Betty hid her surprise like the professional spy she was, but Shego...

Her heart raced. Her cheeks flushed. Her lips pressed together. Her nails dug into her palms. No, she didn't hate this woman: didn't know her well enough to hate her yet. However, it'd been months since Shego saw her last familiar face and seeing one now in this circumstance wound her up in all the wrong ways.

Giles picked up on the undercurrent right away. "You two have met I take it?"

"No," Betty smoothly lied, "but my guess is that your new Slayer has much to explain about her Watcher."

All those things Aines said about the Council, about backup, about GJ, and about investigating Kakistos came back into Shego's mind. GJ, big business, secret stuff, never good, do not call unless in extreme emergency. "What about her?" she asked, cautious.

Trying to diffuse the situation, Giles put himself in the middle of the room. "Faith, it's come to my attention your Watcher was not invited to the retreat. In fact, after an enlightening phone call with the Council last night, I found out that both you and her have been reported missing for weeks."

"Not only that," added Betty, "but a certain vampire my organization has been tracking disappeared in that same time frame. You wouldn't happen to know one by the name of Kakistos, would you?"

That one, hawkish eye pierced Shego, daring her to escape this predicament, daring her to lie. From across the library, the head of GJ held shades of a sadistic hunter who caught her wild prey but wanted it to know its grizzle fate.

Like a wild animal, Shego fought back. "You want the truth?" she snarled, her fists on the verge of catching fire. "You said the answer yourself: Kakistos. The pig had his personal 'Army of Darkness' kill my Watcher in ways no one should ever know. So why am I here? Because I'm running for my fucking life. That sum it up for you?"

"Quite," Betty nodded. "At least now we have a lead to go on."

"That's all we were to you? A lead? Aines is dead!"

"And you're alive with Kakistos on your trail." Casually dismissing Shego, Betty trained her attention on Giles. "The Initiative is prepared to offer assistance on this hostile. Tell me, what do you need?"

Lower lip bit and finger scratching the side of his head, the Watcher sucked in a breath to hold in his displeasure. "There be rub, I suppose. As Kakistos is an ancient vampire who is still terrorizing the world, I'd assume that whatever was done previously didn't quite work. So no, I don't have an idea what we'll need but thank you for asking."

Subtle slight unacknowledged, she brushed a speck of dust off her shoulder and moved toward the door where Buffy and Shego stood. "I'm sure Ms. Summers has many questions of her own she wants to ask without my company. Mr. Giles, you know how to contact me if the Initiative's services are needed."

As a parting gift, Betty Director gave Shego a slow, knowing smile before leaving like an exorcised ghost.

After a tense moment (wherein the trio left behind waited till the click of heels on cement faded away), Buffy blurted out, "What's her deal with you?"

"How should I know?!" Shego shouted.

"Ladies, I don't want to pick up where we previously left off."

A father's reproach graced that British voice and quieted the almost-bickering duo down. Both shifted their smoldering gazes to floor while muttering "Sorry, Giles" in concert.

"Buffy, go to class. We cannot afford valuable daylight lost to detention."

The blonde opened her mouth to protest, but the unyielding look on her Watcher's face clipped her rebellion short. Before her temper could get the better of her again, Buffy--without so much as another look back at Faith or Giles--stalked off to the class.

"You two certainly have a way with each other."

"If by 'way' you mean the irresistible urge to pummel her, then yeah."

"Buffy is just... possessive. She takes her duty as a Slayer very seriously."

As far as Shego was concerned, "She could have my duty because I'm tired of it running my life."

"I'm afraid duty isn't something one can give away," sighed Giles with more than a hint of understanding. "Duty finds us, and whether you like it or not, the Slayer's calling has found you. I know you must feel helpless, but let us help you. You don't have to face Kakistos alone."

That was the idea, right? Get backup and off that ugly pig so Aines' last moments wouldn't haunt her dreams? It sounded so simple when all she had was a handful of bus fare and a far off hope of Sunnydale. Faith suffocated Shego, their lives maliciously intertwined. Overnight, everything became complicated, one lie covering up the last. With Dr. Director into the picture, the lies thinned, threatening to break at any given moment.

Slayer's calling... If only he knew her story. This kindly Briton who'd done nothing wrong to her would be crushed.

"Faith? You didn't do anything wrong. Even a Slayer is allowed to be afraid."

* * *

**Giles sounds nice.**

That and then some. Maybe if GJ had people like him, it wouldn't be half bad.

**Which reminds me: where does Dr. Director fit into all of this? **

You've got to realize that there's people who need power. They want to control everything around them and they're never having a good time unless they're the focal point. Betty's one of those control freaks and I was her new variable. Not surprising then, that after I left Giles', the lady stalked me for a surreptitious heart to heart.

* * *

"You're a long way from Go City." 

Shego suppressed a surprised yelp and its subsequent frustrated growl. For the past twenty minutes, she'd been walking through downtown Sunnydale with her head in constant motion, vainly searching for the set of eyes following her. The "who" and the "why" parts of the equation she had no doubt, but the "how" was the issue. Where was her tail? Up on the rooftops? Inside the stores? Lurking in a car? The search distracted her, so much so that she ended up on a lightly trafficked street that allowed for a perfect, innocuous meeting.

Score one for Betty Director.

"I wanted a change of scenery," replied Shego as she focused on the alley where Betty's voice came from.

"Sunnydale's nice. A bit dry and very dangerous, but nice."

"Look, I don't want trouble from you. Just tell me why you're even talking to me."

Arms folded and expression neutral, Dr. Director stepped out from the shadows. "So long as we're on the same side, 'Faith,' there will be no trouble. GJ has a vested interest in seeing Kakistos put down and I am not above tapping any resource to see that objective through."

"Anyone ever tell you you're disturbingly honest?"

"No, but I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't," Shego growled. "I'm not on anyone's side. All I want is to see Kakistos dead, then I'm gone."

"Back home?"

"How about none of your business?"

"I do believe otherwise, 'Faith.' When a superheroine of no small renown disappears, I make it my business. Seeing you in Sunnydale and embroiled in this supernatural mess brings me a sigh relief as it lets me know you haven't been wasting your time with pointless, teenage rebellion. I hate to see someone with your ability and potential go to waste."

"What gives you the right to tell me what to do? It's my life to waste."

The conversation growing worse by the moment, Betty frowned at the continued hostilities from Shego. This girl definitely wasn't the same one who'd left Team Go. Real life made her harder, more bitter, and vastly more cynical. Where once enigmatic requests sent her and her brothers leaping into action, this Shego questioned motives and refused to give up anything about herself. Convincing her to do anything required more subtle manipulation.

Betty changed tactics. "Perhaps we can form a working relationship-"

"I'm not interested in getting any deeper into this vampire stuff."

"Of course. Your goal is Kakistos' death and I have the resources to help you bring that about. We help each other, I pretend I never saw you in Sunnydale, and we both go away happy."

What a mighty tempting offer. Shego actually considered accepting the shortcut and being done with everything. The sneaky gleam in Dr. Director's eye stopped her though. There was something foreboding about that look, something that Aines referred to as "trouble inna worst way." Was it the unblinking, unwavering stare? Maybe the dispassionate face or ramrod straight posture?

"Thanks, but no thanks. B and I can handle it. She isn't the longest lived Slayer for no reason."

"And I am that reason for her survival, 'Faith.' Do you think Ms. Summers is that different from the Slayers before her? How? By God, it's the twentieth century and she still uses anachronistic weapons like stakes and crossbows. The truth is, the Initiative keeps her from being swamped by this town's hellish underbelly. Why do you think I called my new arm of GJ 'the Initiative?' My preemptive strike force works with the Slayer to keep the world's worst in check. Ms. Summers just happens to be the first Slayer I've supported in this way, hence her sterling track record."

How many things did this lady have her hands in? She dabbled in the supernatural, the superhuman, and the mundane--anything else? Shego shook her head and backed away, unsure whether to believe the preposterous claims or... or... or what?

Seeing the retreat, Betty again closed the distance between them. "There's an insane murderer after you. You're broke, alone, and tired. I'm sure if I shared this bit of information with your family, you'd be back in Go City before lunch."

The thinly veiled threat stopped Shego. "What do you want?"

"Your cooperation."

Cooperation wasn't the word. "You want me to throw myself at your feet and beg for help."

"I'd accept that too."

"Then you can go to hell."

Instead of waiting for a reply, Shego rounded the corner and pulled off her own disappearing stunt. By the time Betty Director had gathered her wits after being rejected so, no sign of a leather wearing, dark haired girl remained. Oh, the girl hadn't gone far, probably wasn't hiding anywhere original either, but to spend too much effort looking for her reeked of desperation. Desperate wasn't in Betty's vocabulary, much less when she held all the cards in the situation.

* * *

Ok, background needed here. Sunnydale was one crappy town and I don't mean just in a demonic sort of way either. Well, actually, sort of. The mayor of Sunnydale? Evil, evil dude. Cops? Incompetent or bought off. The high school principle? Pretty sure he was hell spawn by the way he acted. For the Initiative and B, there really wasn't a lack of antagonists. You'd think that with GJ's resources, a hotspot like that would be stamped out posthaste, but no, you'd be wrong. 

_Dr. Director was working on it though, right?_

That's why Dr. D calls you buffoon, buffoon. Think about it: Sunnydale being so messed up was a cash cow for GJ. Every trouble justified another wad of money to be thrown in to stop it all. Then you know what happens next? Betty skims a little off the top to "allocate at her own discretion." Easy money--that's why the Initiative set up shop in Sunnydale. They took down the small fish and let the big fish to swim free, at all times calling for more cash to fight against things they supposedly couldn't touch.

**But if Dr. Director never got any results, she'd never get funding.**

Really? Then how come Betty can't even keep Motor Ed in jail?

_What does Motor Ed have to do with anything?_

Everything. Can't either of you see? What she did in Sunnydale she's doing again in Middleton. Yeah, she's fighting crime around the world, but she needs her hotspot. Contrary to popular belief, we villains aren't planning to take over the world 24/7. Heck, there's not even a lot of us to begin with! Don't you think it'll be an utter waste of time, money, and power if a global entity was made to do the job of each country's law enforcement? Got any redundancy anywhere? GJ is that redundant entity, so in order to keep it going, in order to justify its existence, she rounds up trouble into one place, makes a big fuss about it, and watches the politicians sign her checks.

**GJ does so many other things too! They help the United Nations, catch criminals hopping from country to country, and-**

Never said GJ doesn't do those things, but it comes at a price. Betty Director used up B's life, sucked the joy right out of her. When you're in high school, you shouldn't have the weight of the world on your shoulders. And if you do? People should be doing their damndest to help you through it.

Kimmie, I don't want what happened to B to happen to you.

* * *

"You work for that bitch?" 

"Jeez, Faith, little warning next time?!"

A frazzled Shego--leaves in her hair, wrinkles in her shirt, and beads of sweat dripping down her forehead--jumped through Buffy's bedroom window. Her way back to Revello Drive wasn't quick or pretty, but the long way back gave her time to think and elude Betty Director... or was it to think about the elusive Betty Director? However it went, Shego came to the conclusion that GJ's head hancho was bad news, bad enough to wonder why the Council even associated with them.

"Sorry B," she muttered, "didn't think you'd freak on me again, but hey, I've been wrong."

The blonde, who was engrossed in a biology assignment, slammed her pen down and glared. "We are so not going there."

"Fine, then tell me why you work for that bitch."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Betty Director, who else?"

"She just showed up one day," Buffy said, well aware how useless the answer sounded. "Since her people dust a few vamps, I decided to keep her around. Kinda like you, actually."

Score one for the a heartless dig. So the cheerleader wanted to get personal, huh? "You play tonsil hockey with her too? Something about the older women turn you on too?"

Buffy's eyes narrowed that dangerous bit, the prideful Slayer in her salivating at a chance to give as good as she got. What little common sense remained made her say, "I don't want to talk about last night, F."

"Did she get further than second base?" Shego, smelling a weakness, closed in on her companion. "What is it about her? That holier-than-thou attitude? The secret agent outfit? Maybe the eye patch?"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

Whereas a weaker person would've lashed out, Buffy pulled her rising temper back. She ignored her tensed body--coiled like a high tension spring--and took a deep breath. Her mother's words, the conversation about Shego's watcher, the fight last night, all of it reminded her of being out of control like Angelus. Slayers fought demons, not other people, especially not other Slayers.

"Get out."

"Why?" preened Shego. "Am I interrupting something important? Were you busy fantasizing about-"

"I swear, Faith, if you don't get out of my room, I'm going to jab a stake in your eye."

Closer and closer the dark haired girl inched. Her spat with Dr. Director keyed her up, anxious energy needing release. The Kiss on the Couch stirred naughty thoughts, all of them revolving around Buffy screaming in ecstasy. The sexual urge stripped Shego of her slim self-control, and for once, caught up in the moment, she didn't care.

Her desires took over. Consequences disappeared from thought. The bottom line? It felt damned good and what felt damned good should never stop.

Shego smiled wickedly. "Jab a stake in my eye? Kinky and just a little disturbing. Is that what gets you off? Dead people?"

Angel's memory spurred Buffy to action. She exploded forward and tackled Shego, the force propelling the both of them onto the bed. Having anticipated the move, Shego flipped the blonde over, straddled her hips, and dove in for a kiss. Against her will but not her recently unattended libido, Buffy harshly responded in kind. Her bucking and squealing and struggling simmered down into low moans and sensual writhing. Her mind prattled about the wrongness of this situation, about how she brought this on herself, about how she should've seen this coming. Meanwhile, Shego... Shego enjoyed feeling the girl beneath her give in. She relished in the silky smooth lips and let the sweet moment drive away Betty Director's diatribe.

Last night came back with a mean role reversal.

However, unlike last night, Buffy's mom didn't barge in and gasp, "Oh my lord."

"Mom!" Or that's what Buffy tried to scream. Shego wouldn't get her tongue out of the way, and Joyce, overcome by shock, simply stepped out of the room. The door closed with a soft click and the encounter continued on its merry way. Embarrassment slipped from both girls' consciousness, replaced by the need warming their souls. Eventually they parted to breathe, and in that short break, Buffy gathered enough of her wits to turn her head away.

Shego chuckled at the token rebellion. "You loved it."

Buffy's universe consisted of her basest desires (sex) and the nearest thing to slake those thirsts (Faith). No reply came from the blonde, not even when fluttering kisses dotted her cheek nor when sinfully soft skin nuzzled against her neck. Ragged panting, though negligible in measures of decibels, dominated the room. She didn't love it; she needed it.

"Do you want me to fuck you, B?"

"Please..."

"Please what?"

Please use me? Please rip off my clothes? Please shove your fingers into me? "Please, not with Mom around."

Mom was quite the killer of libidos, not to mention Shego had no intention of explaining herself to anyone, much less Ms. Summers. To think, for once, stopping short was prudent. "Bronze," she breathed into Buffy's ear, "10 o'clock. You want me? Come and get me."

* * *

**Confident much?**

Outwardly? Sure. Inside? Scared out of my mind sounds more like it. Strike that, try "driven into the ground and beaten by my own stupidity." I'd worn out my welcome in Sunnydale: Dr. Director was on my case, Giles was digging into my time with Aines, Kakistos was setting up shop, and there was no way B's mom was going to let me stay another second under their roof. I'd royally screwed up from every conceivable angle, so I decided to get my sorry self back to Go City. I figured five or six hours was enough time to scrap enough cash together to let me survive till I charged back into my hometown. Had to get out while I still had a chance, you know?

**Then why were you meeting Buffy at that club?**

Hello? This is me we're talking about. B was to be my last hurrah before I tucked my proverbial tail between my legs and never left the sight of my parents ever again, kinda like a last meal before an execution. Turned out giving into my sex drive would be one of the worst decisions of my life.

**Imagine that.**

Stop Kimmie, sarcasm doesn't suit you.

* * *

Oddly enough, the Bronze suffered through a slow night. A pair of bartenders minded the few regulars milling about, the dance floor remained devoid of dancers, and only a handful of the booths were occupied. That abandoned quality made hiding--or at least blending into the surroundings--difficult at best, which was bad considering how Shego had no intentions of catching either Giles' or Dr. Director's eyes a few hours before skipping town. She didn't feel like explaining herself or seeing the carnage that would be left behind in her wake. Giles would've probably taken it well if his fatherly demeanor said anything about him, but Betty Director was another story. GJ was another epic. 

Then again, the little risk was worth the reward, no?

Shego grinned at the thought of her and Buffy finishing what they started this afternoon. The blonde practically begged to be fucked, all sweaty and moaning and panting. They could've closed the deal, but Mrs. S picked the wrong time to come barging in. How come moms always knew when to stumble into any given situation and stop it in its tracks? Why, Shego's own mom had that nasty talent too!

"Mom..."

Whispering the word despite herself, Shego couldn't help but imagine the hurt she'd caused her family, especially her parents. What a twisted journey this turned out to be, everything from freedom to vampires to being hunted to now... now... now just an overload of lies. Life was suppose to get simple after she escaped Go City, but dealing with Avarius' hijinks and the nonstop media coverage of Team Go sounded trivial compared to living hand to mouth.

Superheroes had it easy; poor people had it tough.

"You're not drinking."

Shego blinked and turned her eyes toward a solemn Buffy. "Why would I be drinking?"

"Figured you to be the rebel kind of girl."

"I need a clear head tonight. There's this wicked blonde who wants a piece of me and I'm not about to disappoint."

Sliding into the seat across from Shego, Buffy ignored the little come-on. "We can't keep doing this, Faith."

"Getting cold feet after you all but dry-humped me earlier in the day? Didn't take you for a quitter."

"I'm saying we can't be at each other's throats or in each other's pants all the time."

"Well, I've got a little clarification there, B. See, we've never been in each other's pants, so why don't we get started so we learn how to stop?"

"That's crude."

"That's way I live: get some and gone."

"I'm not going to be another notch on your bedpost."

"Hey, if you don't want to do the morning after thing, I can deal."

Exasperation once again dawned on Buffy. "I am not sleeping with you," she groaned. "Get it through your head!"

Just so happen the music chose that moment to stop. The good news? The sparse crowd only caught the "Get it through your head!" part. The bad news? A gang of vampires smashed through the front door and made a beeline for the Slayers. The smart-mouthed comment died on Buffy's lips as a foolish guy jumped from the bar and threw himself into the fray. The foolish guy's friends followed suit with no regard for life or limb.

And Shego recognized the foolish guy as Riley Finn, the college kid she pick pocketed the night before.

Shaking off her momentary shock at someone actually helping, Buffy grabbed Shego's hand and pulled her into the fight. Neither stopped to ask questions--they fought, Buffy to protect the innocent and Shego in a mad dash to the exit.

There was a bus leaving for Go City in an hour. These vampires ruined the moment with Buffy and stood in the way of her escape. Something was going to pay.

Letting out a guttural roar, Shego swung a barstool into the undead charging her. A series of gruesome cracks preceded falling bodies, but instead of taking up a defensive position, she advanced into the swath of enemies. A stake from her jacket replaced the bent barstool's remains, the deadly weapon thrusting about and leaving dust behind. Innocents screamed, unwittingly making themselves inviting targets to the slathering vampires. Shego used the distraction to barrel out of the Bronze and-

Run into the slimy, scaly chest of a naga.

The snake thing, with its venomous fangs bared, hissed into Shego's face. An earth shaking uppercut sent the creature airborne, end over end, and tumbling into many of its compatriots. Despite the awesome hit, Shego didn't even have time for a wiry grin as a vampire kicked her from behind. More enemies piled on, each body shielding more and more of the waning moon above. Her mortality loomed as thoughts of so many possibilities snuffed out by her dim-witted, hormone driven self and a mountain of monsters. Breathing became hard amidst the crushing weight, the act not helped by cheap shots and slashing claws. Before long, only darkness and pain encased Shego in a hellish form of sensory deprivation.

Hell. This was probably what it felt like too: helplessness, agony, hopelessness, and hoarse whispers of "You die now, Slayer."

Desperation kicked in, overriding her begrudging sense of inevitability and the desire for secrecy. A green glow blazed like a furnace, obliterating the shadows and silencing whispers. Vampires burst into ashes; nagas squealed and writhed. Her powers long suppressed flashed one brilliant time and burned through her prison, her death sentence, Hell itself.

Overhead, the moon loomed.

Pain subsided.

A comforting breeze tussled her hair.

Shego shambled to her feet, well aware scores of (stunned) demons still stood nearby. Concentrating the flaming aura into her fists, she leveled her cruelest glare at them. "Who wants some?"

A few vampires shuffled backwards. They eyed her fearfully, first at her scowl then at the infernos heeding her command. For many, this was the first time in their undead lives that they couldn't charge forward, that whatever remained of their soul screamed in blind terror. True, Slayers killed legions of them, but even Slayers were flesh and blood. None bathed themselves in green fire which burned worse than the holiest of waters.

"Faith, where do you think you're going?!"

Of course, Buffy yelled those words a second before she tumbled out of the Bronze's doors. When she did though, her mouth hung open like everyone else's. In her eyes wasn't so much fear as there was awe, the same kind of awe she showed at Willow's minor witchy powers or Oz's sheer destructiveness while in wolf form or Giles' unflappable demeanor. Glowing green hands? Surprising, but far from unexpected on the Hellmouth.

"I'm getting out of here, B. You can have your Slayers and vampires because this adventure stopped being fun a long time ago. I'm done playing games."

Another voice--this one a shade above a growl and a good bit more intimidating--rose above the mumbling commotion amongst the vampires. "You will be done when I feast on you Slayer, and not a moment sooner!"

And with that declaration, Kakistos shouldered his way through his minions. His cloven hands clutched and forced the muscles on his immense forearms to ripple. He strode with an impassioned fury the devil himself would approve of. The closer he came, the bigger he seemed, his very countenance seeming to swallow up the night. He gave no pause, neither to chastise his hesitant army nor peer at the fire bathing the streets in an unnatural hue.

Except for the scar covering his right eye, he appeared as if summoned from Shego's nightmares.

Bolstered by their master's presence, the vampires and nagas resumed their attack. From the wall of sound made by howls and hisses, Shego heard Aines' dying screams echo. Each step pounding against the pavement resembled the Watcher's bones snapping. Each figure added its own brushstroke to return her to that horrible night. It was all coming to a head, her lies, her heroism, her fears, her freedom, her responsibilities.

It was time to choose what she wanted.

To live a lie? To become Faith and never be Shego again? How about heroism? To help Buffy bring an end to the proclaimed "worst of the worst?" Would she give in to her fears and let Kakistos have his way? Could she even beat him if she tried? Responsibility? There to own up to every wrong done and then the will to make it right--did she have that capacity to not only stand up to her charade but also carry the Slayer's burden?

Ah yes, and then there was freedom. Freedom from it all, the responsibility, the heroism, the lies, the fear. Shego loved and needed freedom; Kakistos stood in her way. Conclusion?

Kakistos had to go.

Shego channeled every emotion fluttering around in her soul and turned it all into one thing: anger. Anger released her from her frozen state. Anger tuned out the lingering misgivings. Anger allowed her to meet Kakistos without so much as a gasp at his horrific features.

Kakistos rumbled forth like an enraged bull while Shego dove and wove like a snake. Green fire sprayed into a deadly shower but proved ineffective as the bulky creature seemed to blink out of the way at the very last second. Here on moment, there another, Kakistos swung his meaty fist into Shego's head. She escaped the decapitating blow by sliding under the legs of a random and very unfortunate vampire. Pow! Head and body separated, both disintegrating into dust. Shego snared the tail end of a confused naga, lit the beast ablaze, and pushed it toward her nemesis like a flaming shield. While other vampires cowered and being burned, Kakistos gave a sneer. His massive leg thrust clean through the squealing naga's chest and connected with Shego's shoulder. Not to be deterred, she spun with the blow, bringing her gleaming hand around to get a fatal shot in.

Only Kakistos moved faster, batted her arm, and sent the fireball careening into the Bronze. The two struggled, vampire gnashing for a bite and false Slayer dancing about to avoid being his nighttime snack. Whereas Kakistos held the advantage in strength and speed, Shego used her lithe frame to slip between strikes and around attempted grapples. Like an old master toying with his favored pupil, the ancient thing matched her technique for technique then ratcheted the intensity up. Sheer force of will allowed Shego to keep up, but were it not for her powers and his fear of them, she would've been dead long ago. Fierce and relentless, they battled back and forth, unlucky undead mauled or incinerated by their stray attacks.

But Shego, for all her training and powers, tired. Without a vampire's constitution, her body slowed an infinitesimal beat. That was enough for Kakistos to clench a cloven hand around her neck.

The worst of the worst grinned. "I have you now, Slayer."

"S... She... Shego."

His one good eye squinted. "What?"

Shego gathered herself and croaked out, "Shego, not Slayer."

Befuddlement melted into disbelief as the girl's body lit up as bright as a star. The green flames he avoided earlier raced up his arm and through his body. His infamously toughened hide refused to carry a fire but that didn't stop Shego from pouring it on. The temperature skyrocketed around them, street pavement bubbling and releasing its tar while metal signs drooped like the eyes of sad children. Kakistos' clothes--a meager vest and some dark pants--seared away. Pain of a new variety lanced at his twisted consciousness and caused him to let go a panicked roar. His pincher-like hands released his prey but his prey didn't release him. More fire erupted from Shego to form a cocoon of destruction.

Witnessing their master's agony, Kakistos' army ditched all pretenses of bravery and ran for their lives.

Piece by piece, his body darkened to a char. It started at his hand, spread to his arm, then encased his torso. Soon, his screams went quiet, his legs stopped kicking, and his remains crumbled to nothingness.

Still buoyed by adrenaline, Shego turned around to see her fleeing enemies and a roughed up Buffy. The dark haired girl smiled, half sad, half grateful. "Thanks, B."

This was it: the end. Kakistos died, Aines was avenged, the bus to Go City left in thirty minutes, and police sirens grew close. Safe to say GJ had to be somewhere near. Time to leave and put this miserable chapter behin-

A steel-like grip clasped onto Shego's forearm. "You're leaving? Just like that? What about those people in the Bronze? We have to save them!"

Not a hero anymore. Never again. "Screw 'em," replied Shego, pulling away from the blonde. "I don't care."

Down the fire brightened street she ran, exhaustion driving her to find somewhere safe. A look over her shoulder showed Buffy charging into the Bronze with no regard for life or limb. More power to her, more power to the heroes, but never again will Shego herself ever do it ever again. Doing the right thing required too much effort and sacrifice. In the end, was the effort and sacrifice worth it? Nope, not by a long shot. Let the damned fire department do its job for once. Let those people save themselves instead of screaming and waiting for a hero to come by.

As she rounded the corner, Shego heard a massive roar and felt the ground shake, almost as if a building had just come down.

* * *

On the bus to Go City, I heard over the radio that "an unidentified high school student from Sunnydale was critically injured when a local nightclub caught fire and collapsed." The ultimate irony? B was the only person inside because beefstick n' friends (Remember, the horny dude I pick pocketed the night before?) ushered everyone out. B didn't know; hell, I had no idea. I guess the silver lining, if there was one, would be that I didn't kill anyone because of my careless selfishness. 

_What about Buffy?_

Third degree burns. Broken ribs. Punctured lung. Coma. It wasn't pretty. Let's just say, with Buffy's life hanging by a thread, I had another reason to examine and hate myself. I couldn't imagine looking anyone I knew in the face, so the closer I got the Go City, the more depressed I became. I was convinced the whole entire world knew I'd started the fire and that I'd just inadvertently taken out the Slayer. I dreamed of Betty Director strutting around town and slapping wanted posters of me on every street corner. And guess what folks? True to form, I chickened out. On the border of New Mexico and Colorado, I hopped off the bus and never got back on.

**Where were you exactly?**

In the town of San Acaio, Colorado, a part of Conejos County.

**We're in Conejos right now: I saw a sign a few miles back.**

You're a sharp one, Princess. But here's the real kicker: do you know what's so special about this struggling, bump-in-the-road, backwater hole-in-the-wall?

_It has two signal lights?_

**It's west of the Rio Grande River?**

It's Global Justice's headquarters.

_You're telling us a town with two signal lights is GJ's HQ?_

Not the town itself, more like the mountain right next to the town. I have to give it to Betty for setting down her roots there: I sure as heck wouldn't have suspected a thing if I didn't run into those guys from WEE.

**What were you doing hanging around WEE? When did you even have time to meet up with them?**

Pumpkin, that's the point. I didn't. Call it dumb luck or fate, but I swear to you, when I got off that bus, the last thing I wanted to do was find GJ's base. I kind of... fell into the information. You see, there's one restaurant in San Acaio, and it just so happen that while I was ordering some breakfast, I overheard talk about GJ from this group by the window. Actually, I take that back: I heard one man by the name of Dr. Drew Theodore P. Lipsky talk about GJ.

_Who's Drew Theodore P. Lipsky?_

**Ron, that's Dr. Drakken.**

And you get pissed he always forgets your name.

_Hey, at least I don't call him buffoon!_

But buffoon suits you so well.

**So not the drama, you two! Can we just get back to the story? What does Drakken and WEE have to do with anything? Why are you bringing us here? What's the sitch?**

Impatient, aren't ya? Well, turns out the people he sat with were from WEE, and WEE was in town to steal something from GJ. Those guys hired Dr. D to supply them with all sorts of cool gadgets... only Dr. D wanted to see more of the action and less of the lab. Being the untactful nimrod he is, he ruffled these WEE people's feathers by: 1.) talking about their "secret plan" in a public place, 2.) demanding he break into the base with these guys to prove GJ "is not all that," and 3.) being a general nuisance and overall liability.

**And?**

And that's the end... or rather the beginning. That's how Dr. D and I hooked up: he wanted to stick it to his former buddies and I needed cash. It was easy money too because for months, all I fought were superhuman demons whose senses and reflexes were even more unreal than machines. Stepping back into the "mortal realm" felt like going back in time to preschool and beating the snot out of the three foot fat kid who used to bully the entire playground. I tripped up those WEE imbeciles and ran circles around the whole facility before dinner came around.

**Drakken had you break into GJ out of spite?!**

Yup. Makes you understand why he and Gemini never team up, doesn't it?

**That's crazy! That's-**

Ten thousand in cash after I came out with a disc full of GJ's most current operations. Of course, I made a copy for myself and read it over in my spare time. How else do you think I know so much about Betty and her insidious little manipulations? It would've taken me a lifetime to puzzle out all of her reasons and conspiracies. Princess, I'm not pulling any of this crazy stuff out of thin air: it's real. Which reminds me, we're right on time.

_On time for what? Why are we parked at a Humongo Burger? Must... not... give in to... burger temptations..._

Give your ironclad stomach a rest, will ya? Your infamous nerdlinger should be here any moment, so keep your appetite in check.

_Wade's here? Why?_

**Wait, Wade can drive?**

That and then some. He's going to help me bring down GJ.

* * *

- To be concluded...


End file.
